


Nobody Told Me There'd Be Days Like These

by Jmetropolis



Series: You're the One [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward First Times, Basketball, Coming Out, Developing Relationship, Doctor Midorima, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Family, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Future Fic, Love, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Requited Love, Sexual Content, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmetropolis/pseuds/Jmetropolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takao knows it's impossible to predict the future, but he never expected his life to turn out quite like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

Takao cried. _Actually cried_ when he got home and threw his school bag on the kitchen counter. He was so angry at the inherent unfairness of the situation, he was shaking. And then, when he was done crying, he laughed. He laughed because the universe had a cruel sense of humor. After he had committed himself, vowed to himself that he would defeat that green-haired Miracle, the guy showed up on the first day of school, at Takao's  _new_ school no less. That monster who had ripped his heart out in middle school with each infallible three-pointer that hung impossibly high in the air before mercilessly sinking down into the metal hoop, making Kazunari question his commitment to the sport he loved, had been in class today wearing the same black, standard-issue gakuran jacket (buttoned up all the way to the top, of course) and uniform pants that Takao now wore. The guy had the gall to show up at the same high school and to make matters worse, he stayed after school for basketball tryouts. 

The universe was definitely laughing at Takao's expense. No one could convince him otherwise. I mean what were the odds? Any basketball school in the country would've welcomed a prodigy with that amount of talent, with open arms, and he just _had_ to pick Shūtoku High?

And he was weird too, with his odd manner of speaking -- what the hell was a nanodayo anyway? Takao would have to look it up later when he wasn't so distraught -- and that giant pink flamingo lawn ornament he was carrying around all day. What was that guy thinking? As if being 195 centimeters and having green hair wasn't enough to make him stand out. 

Basketball tryouts had only just started and they would be held all week, but it was a foregone conclusion that that guy was going to get picked, and be a starter to boot. From the glimpse of him Takao had caught in that one game in middle school, he was already better than most, if not all of the existing players on the team. And he was only a freshman. He was only going to get better. If Takao ever needed proof that life was cruel, there it was wearing a pair of partially rimmed glasses and sports tape. Coach Nakatani might as well write the guy's name in permanent marker on the roster already. There was no way around it. If Takao made it on the team (and that was a big "if"), they would be teammates and he would _have_ to play with him. 

All those hours of extra practice and that overnight basketball camp he had to beg his parents to let him go to, wasted. Because the one thing he had set himself out to do was now an impossibility. 

That's when reality hit the point guard in the face like an overthrown basketball. That was the moment when Takao changed his focus. He could no longer beat him, they were going to be on the same team, but he could certainly get him to notice him.

 

 

* * *

**AN:** My belated contribution to MidoTaka Day. Better late than never. The title is from a John Lennon song.


	2. Chapter 2

The first few weeks of basketball practice were so brutal Takao thought he was going to _die_. He had somehow, miraculous made the cut, but he was working so hard he was throwing up in the trashcan behind the gym on his way home after every practice. If he kept this up, he was going to disintegrate into nothing.

He had made the team, but he didn’t know yet if he was going to be a starter. Coach had said he’d decide the lineup closer to the first game. The fact that he and Midorima Shintarō were the only freshman to make the team said something about the strength of Shūtoku’s upperclassmen.

Takao liked to think that it also said something about his own dogged determination. Midorima Shintarō was blessed with preternatural stamina. The guy just didn’t seem to tire the way his teammates did. He hardly broke a sweat during practice, while Takao was plagued with side stitches. And the precision and accuracy of his shots were like nothing Takao had ever seen before. It was like the guy was not even human.

He was built different too. He was Takao’s age, but he was huge. He was already the tallest player on the team, taller than the coach and all the third-years, and he had large hands, just perfect for cradling a basketball. Guys like that had a built-in, unfair advantage, Takao was convinced. They had it easy. Things were just handed to them. But if Takao ever wanted to see the inside of the paint, he was going to have to bust his butt and work really hard to make the first string. Takao didn’t understand why Midorima even bothered coming to practice; he was already better than everyone else.

He had expected that their resident Miracle would get special treatment from the coach and he had been right. On the first day of tryouts, Midorima had gotten so far down in Miyaji’s skin that the hair-trigger tempered third-year had taken Midorima’s plastic flamingo and threatened to break it in half. There had also been a threat about flying produce, but Takao hadn’t quite caught what that part was about.

The two had made such a spectacle that Takao was holding on to his stomach, he was laughing so hard. That is, until Coach couldn’t ignore it any longer and was forced to intervene. Takao had been so sure that Midorima was going to get a talking to about bringing weird things with him to the basketball court, and from the smug look on his face so had Miyaji, but to everyone’s surprise Coach had sided with Midorima and had declared that from now on, Midorima would get three special requests (or “selfish requests,” as Miyaji had muttered under his breath) per day. If Takao had been granted three special requests per day, he'd use the first one to get out of practice and wouldn't even need the other two.

 _Yup, life was easy for someone as naturally gifted at Midorima Shintarō_ , Takao had thought as he grabbed his gym bag and headed out the door one night after practice. He was halfway home when he unzipped the front pocket to grab his headphones and listen to some music. It was then that he realized he’d left his cell phone in his locker. _Shit_. His aching body was protesting and he hesitated over going back, but then he remembered he had told one of the cute girls in class that he’d text her tonight after practice and he’d never hear the end of it tomorrow if he hadn’t. Reluctantly, he headed back to school.

As he approached the gym, he noticed the lights were on. He assumed that the last guy to leave had simply forgotten to shut them off and it was a good thing he’d gone back for his cell phone, but then he heard the familiar, rhythmic thud of rubber hitting the wooden court.

“Shin-chan?”

“Will you stop with that overly familiar nickname?” Midorima didn’t even look back as he continued to make his shot. He sounded really annoyed which was the exact reason Takao had taken to calling him that.

“What are you doing here?” Shūtoku’s practices were so brutal that Takao had thought everyone went home the first chance they got. And for the most part, he had been right.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Ah. Forgot my phone.”

Midorima grunted in acknowledgement, but he didn’t stop shooting three-pointers. It was then that Takao noticed that the floor beneath the hoop was littered with basketballs and he forgot why he was there in the first place. “How many of those are you gonna make?”

Midorima gestured towards a half empty ball rack intimating that he would finish the job and if Takao hadn’t been looking at him, he would’ve missed the non-verbal response.

“You stay here _every_ night?” Takao could hear the awe in his own voice.

Midorima continued making his shots as if Takao wasn’t there. As if he hadn’t asked him a question.

Seeing as the shooting guard wasn’t going to answer that question, Takao asked another one. “Why?”

Midorima paused briefly between shots, “Man proposes, God disposes."

"Come again?"

The tall freshman sighed with impatience. "I do everything in my power to prepare myself. That's why my shots never miss,” he said, as if Takao was the dumbest person he'd ever met. And as if to prove his point, he sunk his next three-pointer.

Takao had it wrong. Things weren’t just handed to Midorima Shintarō. Midorima Shintarō had immense talent, that part was undeniable. But what Takao hadn't known until now was that Midorima Shintarō was only human and if his shots never missed, it was because he worked hard, harder than anyone else on the team, harder than any one of his opponents.

And if Midorima Shintarō, for all the blessings that life had bestowed upon him, felt he needed to stay after practice and perfect his formidable skill, then who the hell was Takao Kazunari to go home with everyone else.

 


	3. Chapter 3

There were times when Midorima Shintarō secretly worried that Takao Kazunari was rubbing off on him. No, not in _that_ way. More in the figurative sense.

Six months ago when he first donned the orange, white and black Shutoku basketball uniform, when he was reluctantly partnered up with the most annoying boy he'd ever met (and that was saying something, after all he had the misfortune of knowing Kise Ryōta), he never dreamed he would be here, at a karaoke bar. Yet here he was. Against his better judgment, against everything his mother had always warned him about when it came to socializing with people his own age. It was a den of sin, filled with underage drinking, questionable fashion choices, and even more questionable music choices.

The place was crowded, and brightly colored and above all it was loud. He was surrounded by his peers, but he felt like a fish out of water. To say that Midorima Shintarō was outside his comfort zone, was an understatement.

Takao had extended the invitation to him in the locker room earlier. The point guard was coming here with some of his friends after practice. But Midorima could tell Takao's friends didn't like him very much. He wasn't oblivious; he knew people thought he was eccentric, to put it mildly, and said so when they thought he wasn't listening.

To his credit, Midorima had never heard Takao say that about him and had even heard the hawkeye defend him to his classmates. For this very reason, Midorima considered Takao his friend, even if he'd rather cross a busy intersection blindfolded and without his lucky item than actually admit this to the Scorpio. He normally didn't care what people said about him. He was used to it. It had happened even at Teiko. It had happened often enough that he'd developed a tough skin, but he thought it would really sting if he'd heard Takao say something like that.

Even though he had rebuffed Takao, telling him he was busy and that he had better things to do with his time than whatever inanities Takao deigned "a good time," he walked the long way home precisely because he would pass the karaoke bar. He wasn't sure what he would do once he got here. He hadn't thought it through. He wasn't even sure what he was hoping to find here. He knew Takao would be here. He even knew which of his friends were with him because Takao had rattled off their names while Midorima pretended he didn't know who they were and that he couldn't care less.

Even so, he was fairly confident he wouldn't get caught. After all he was wearing a clever disguise. No one would spot him in a pair of dark sunglasses.

"Shin-chan?" He recognized the voice instantly. He would recognized that voice anywhere, but Midorima didn't turn around in hopes that the boy would realize he was mistaken and just go away.

"What are you doing here?" _Darn._

Takao was wearing a neon colored wristband and was carrying a plastic coaster in his hand, one of those pagers that restaurants used to let patrons know their table was ready. It was buzzing and its lights were flickering. Midorima had never before set foot in this type of establishment, but it was obvious that Takao was picking up a food order for the group he was with. Midroima looked around, but he didn't see any of the point guard's friends. Takao must've read his thoughts, "they're in the room," he explained.

And then he pressed the issue. "You're here. I thought you said you weren't coming." There was a sparkle in Takao's steel-blue eyes, he looked really happy to see Shutoku's ace.

"I was in the area," Midorima responded, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, for no other reason than to hide his embarrassment.

"Shin-chan lives in the opposite direction," he proudly proclaimed, like a four-year-old who'd just learned to count and was eager to share his newly acquired knowledge. There was a playful lilt to Takao's statement and a smile was threatening to form on the cusp of his lips.

He was about to walk out when Takao grabbed his arm. He held it mere seconds before letting go, like it was a hot poker. It might as well have been, the way Takao's touch still lingered on Midorima's skin after he'd let go.

"Hey, wait up. I'll walk you home. Let me just drop this off first." He pointed to a large tray of fried chicken and soft drinks resting on the food counter. A small flag in the center bore a number that corresponded to the one on Takao's pager.

Having had his fill of the loud establishment, the shooting guard waited outside as the other teen bade farewell to his friends. He schooled his features so that he'd at least have a mildly irritated expression when Takao came out, even though on the inside he was elated that the shorter teen was leaving with him. It was a lucky coincidence that he'd run into Takao just when Takao had decided he was ready to go home. Oha Asa had said that Cancer was in second place this morning and he was carrying a glow in the dark keychain in his back pocket. Oha Asa was never wrong.  

On the walk home, Takao casually put his hands behind his own head and joked with, or rather teased the taller teen.

"Hey, Takao. How did you know it was me?"

Takao looked at him dumbfounded for a moment, like he wasn't sure if Midorima was being serious. He responded after a moment of reflection. "Just lucky, I guess."

###

Midorima had impeccable manners, Takao had noticed this over the many months they'd practiced together. He didn't mean that Teiko's former number 7 was polite or particularly nice. _Heavens no. Far from it_. The number of times the older boy told Takao to shut-up on a daily basis made the hawkeye wonder if he had some sort of mental quota he needed to meet. What Takao meant to say was that the green-haired Miracle knew stuff. Stuff other kids their age weren't supposed to know. Like how to pour tea properly, how to bow the appropriate amount of centimeters and how to tie a haori himo. Takao didn't even own a haori himo. His _own father_ didn't even own a haori himo, but he knew for a fact Shin-chan owned several.

Of course, Shin-chan being Shin-chan it shouldn't have been too surprising that his parents had stocked up on etiquette lessons. Midorima Shintarō was the perfect candidate for an arranged marriage if Takao ever saw one. He was great on paper. And Takao really meant _great_. His grades were impeccable. He was athletic, he even played the piano and not just the way kids whose parents have forced them to take up lessons for years play the piano. Midorima played it really well; like, if this basketball thing didn’t pan out for him, he could be a concert pianist.

He wasn’t even bad looking. Hell, you could even throw in a photograph -- headshot or full body -- and, provided you photoshopped the ever-present scowl on his face, there weren’t very many girls who wouldn't swoon over him. Takao’s own sister got all stupid whenever he brought Shin-chan home with him. To put it bluntly, he was a nakōdo's wet dream.

That is until he opened his mouth and maybe even sooner than that depending on the size and content of that day's lucky item.

Still, there was something about the idea of marrying Shin-chan off, even in this made up hypothetical world existing entirely in Takao's head that didn't sit right with the younger teen.

He didn't think some randomly selected hanayome would understand what a special snowflake Shin-chan was. She may not know that with Shin-chan it was more what he didn't say that convey his true meaning, rather than his harsh tone or his actual words. She might not understand that although Midorima was physically incapable of saying he was sorry or admitting he was wrong, he never committed the same offense twice. Because he listened and cared about other people's feelings. Takao didn't think such a girl would understand the importance of Oha Asa in Shin-chan's life or that he needed structure and repetition to deal with the uncertainties surrounding him. That Midorima lied often, but he was never dishonest.

Takao didn't think anyone understood Midorima as well as he did. He didn't think anyone had bothered to -- not his parents, or his former coach and especially not his old teammates -- before the hawkeye had come along.

"Did you hit your head or something?"

Takao rolled his eyes at the familiar question. He'd been asked this a _lot_. A byproduct of chauffeuring around a certain disgruntled green-haired giant in a cart attached to a bicycle. Sometimes Takao wondered if Shin-chan went out of his way to make a spectacle out of himself. Sometimes Takao wondered if Midorima even knew what hanging out together was doing to Takao's social life.

"Does he have some dirt on you? Are you being blackmailed?" He knew his friend meant well, he really did. But that didn't make this line of questioning any less annoying.

Takao sighed. He wanted to tell him that he had it all wrong. That Midorima wasn't a self-centered, egotistical prick as he'd phrased it. That on days when Scorpio had a low ranking, Midorima would bring him a lucky item too. That Shin-chan's refrigerator at home was mysteriously stocked up with Takao's favorite soft drink, and had been for weeks. That sometimes, when Midorima thought no one was watching him, he glanced back at Takao. And once, on a glorious, terrifying night after practice when everyone had gone home, he'd even felt him sniff the back of his hair while his large, talented hands blanketed Takao's ordinary ones holding the basketball in place as he demonstrated, in painstaking detail what was wrong with the other boy's shot. Takao had been so lightheaded after that that he'd completely undershot the ball, missing the glass backboard and the rim of the basket by several embarrassing centimeters.

In the end, he saved his breath. His friends wouldn't understand, even if he could explain it.

Kazunari had just wanted the Miracle to notice him. In these past months, he'd certainly accomplished that. But now there were things Takao had noticed about the shooting guard as well, things that kept him up at night and stayed with him for days. There were things that made Takao think he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with his basketball partner.


	4. Chapter 4

When the majestic front door of the Midorima residence sprang open, Takao's head shot up, and up, and up. _My father travels around the world giving lectures_ , Midorima had once told him while inspecting a strand of sports tape on his left hand, _and sometimes he likes to give gratuitous lectures at home_. He had finished telling Takao with a bitter smile that carefully avoided the other boy's eyes. Shin-chan never talked about his father and Takao had half expected Shin-chan to ignore the question when after months of burning curiosity he'd asked.

 _Dr. Midorima was an imposing figure_. That was the thought that had popped in his head. Of course Takao knew that Shin-chan was tall -- he was constantly reminded of their difference in height when he thought about the logistics of what it would be like to kiss his ace -- but Dr. Midorima was _tall_ , like really tall, tall in a way that reminded Takao that his love-interest was still in high school and probably hadn't seen his last growth spurt, a thought that kinda depressed the point guard a little bit. You wouldn't know it by the company he kept (he was surrounded by giants, the shortest of Shūtoku's starters by a significant amount of centimeters), but Takao was actually not a short guy. Of course, compared to Shin-chan he was down right petite, but compared to most guys his age, he had above average height.

 _Dr. Midorima was a handsome man._ That was his next thought. It was like looking at an older, sterner version of Shin-chan. Takao knew he definitely had a type (or maybe Shin-chan had short-circuited his settings so that he was now only attracted to green-haired giants who sported scowls and glasses and impossibly long eyelashes). Then he spoke and Takao's heart couldn't help but speed up in response to the man's booming voice.

"Well. Who are you and what do you want?" _Dr. Midorima was an impatient man._ It became clear to Takao that while he knew who this man was, said man hadn't the foggiest idea who Takao was.

"Taka--," the younger man stopped to clear his throat, his traitorous voice having cracked as he'd tried to introduce himself. It was like he was suddenly in middle school all over again. Takao's shoes felt like weights as he stood frozen on the front steps of Shin-chan's enormous house.

Thankfully, Shin-chan's mother appeared at the door to rescue him. He'd never been happier to see the woman. Midorima's mother was a beauty with youthful features and shiny black hair. If she had been born during feudal times, her face would've been the subject of a great many paintings. Takao's first inappropriate thought upon meeting the woman a few months back had been surprise that someone as large as Shin-chan had come out of someone so tiny. 

"Takao-kun. Come on in." She opened the door wider and had to encourage the young man to come inside the way one would beckon a scared puppy, before Takao even budged.

He quickly removed his shoes, bowed his head low and muttered the customary apology for his intrusion.

But Midorima's parents seemed to have forgotten he was still in the room and were already talking about him like he wasn't even there.

"Who's that?" The man sounded only mildly interested in his wife's response.

"That's Takao Kazunari. He plays basketball," she told him.

It reminded Takao of those scenes in TV shows where the chief-of-staff whispers to the prime minister the names and biographical information of people he's about to meet so that the prime minister appears knowledgeable when they're introduced, except Takao wasn't expecting a handshake from Midorima's father. The point guard was standing off to the side in the genkan while Shin-chan's parents were having their own private conversation. As if that wasn't uncomfortable enough, Takao could hear every word of it.   

The bewildered look on the elder Midorima's face told Takao that he'd never head of one "Takao Kazunari."

"You know, Shintarō's friend."

"Friend? You mean Seijūrō?"

"No. The Korean boy," she added helpfully. 

Takao could count on one hand the few details that Shin-chan had chosen to share with his mother about his basketball partner. This lack of inclination to share information didn't bother Takao, Shin-chan wasn't a very expressive person on the best of days. But for reasons that were beyond his comprehension, one of the things about Takao Kazunari that Shin-chan had deigned important enough to tell his mother was that he liked kimchi. Mrs. Midorima had translated this tidbit of trivia into Takao being Korean when in fact Takao was no more Korean than he was Mexican because he'd once tried an enchilada and deemed it "not bad." Also, the fact that Midorima's father remembered Akashi's first name, let alone the fact that he remembered Rakuzan's captainas his son's friend, wasn't a punch in the gut, _not at all_.

Mrs. Midorima, having apparently recognized a lost cause when she saw one, mercifully turned to Takao, who was still awkwardly standing a few feet away from the couple, pretending he hadn't heard their exchange.

"Go on, dear. Shintarō's in his room."

Takao politely bowed before heading towards the large staircase, walking as fast as his feet would take him without turning into an full on sprint, anxious to get out of earshot as Midorima's father continued to unknowingly twist the knife in his heart.

"The one from Kyoto, the shogi player?

"No, darling, that's still Akashi-kun."

###

"Oi, Takao. Did you get lost finding my house? What took you so long?"

It was a rhetorical question. By now Takao was almost a permanent fixture in the Midorima household, even if the head of said household had only just met him for the first time. That, Takao had decided, was more an indictment on the big man, than on anyone else.

"I got held up downstairs. Your parents were talking," _to each other_ , he grimaced, still feeling embarrassed that the adults in the room had pretty much ignored him as they went on talking about him, not to him.

"Oh." Shin-chan went quiet. He'd sounded surprised and Takao wondered whether the other boy had even known his father was home when he had texted to invite Takao over, or if Takao was the one breaking the news to him. The fact that the Shūtoku ace didn't even budge from his spot at the low study table, suggested he didn't particularly care to greet the man. The more he learned about the Midorimas, the more he decided Shin-chan wasn't even the strangest person in his family. He knew Shin-chan's parents weren't into following horoscopes and collecting lucky items, that neurosis was particular to their eldest offspring. But that didn't mean they didn't have their own quirks.

For instance, while Takao had seen enough of Shin-chan's mother that she at least remembered his name, if not his nationality, she wasn't home a lot either. And Takao knew for a fact that Shin-chan's father had been away for the past three months. The last time he was home, Shin-chan had painstakingly avoided inviting Takao over. The weird thing was Midorima didn't even seem happy to learn his father was finally back home. The shooting guard had briefly paused, before shrugging it off. 

His brief interaction with Shin-chan's parents had made Takao so uneasy, he really wanted to go home despite the fact that he just got here. Even the allure of spending an unencumbered Saturday afternoon with Shin-chan wasn't enough to make him want to stay. He could've easily made up some excuse and hightailed it back to his own home, back to normalcy. He was tempted to do just that. Yet something kept his feet in place. Kept his fight or flight mode in check against his own self-interest, kind of like in the movies where that one guy always goes back to save his best friend, back into the burning flames of an abandoned building even though he could just save himself. 

When Shin-chan was in his first year of middle school and his sister was just a baby, his mother had paid the nanny to take the children away with her to Osaka. They had remained there with the nanny's family for over a week and Shin-chan was inconsolable. He had really thought his parents had given him and his sister away.

It was stories like that that made Takao appreciate his own parents. It also made him appreciate that maybe Shin-chan wasn't as messed up as he could've been under the circumstances, three selfish requests a day and all. It was right then and there that Takao decided that his Shin-chan needed to spend some quality time with the Takao clan, so he could see what a real family was like.

". . . Hey Shin-chan. You wanna come over to my place? My mom got me a new video game."

Midorima shrugged disinterestedly, but he put away his school books and reached for his coat. 

###

Midorima had woken up at his usual early time on Sunday. But because he wasn't at home and his host was still in his own bed, obviously conked out from playing video games all night, Midorima had no choice but to fall back asleep. Takao didn't have a TV in his room and Midorima couldn't very well head downstairs and turn on the TV in the living room on his own. He supposed he could always catch Oha Asa on his cellphone when they posted a recap later that morning. 

He didn't know how long he slept for, but he knew the instant he woke up again that it was very late.

"Kazu-chaaaan!"

It was like someone was strangling a parrot. Midorima shifted under the covers, pulling his nightcap as far as it would go over his ears in a fruitless effort to drown out that infernal racket.

"Kazu-chaaaan!"

There must've been something in the Takao sibling DNA that was specifically targeted to grate on his last nerve, he thought grimly as he put a pillow over his head.

"Kazu-chaaaan! Give it back! Give it back or I'm telling mom. Mooooom!" 

Midorima pushed the pillow tighter over his face hoping to smother himself.

"SHIIIIN-CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN! Breakfast is ready. You can come downstairs now. SHIIIIN-CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN?" 

Midorima flopped on the guest futon at the foot of Takao's bed like a fish on a wooden pier agonizing over its last breaths. _Oh for the love of all that was holy_ , he'd made a huge mistake.


	5. Chapter 5

Takao was popular, well-liked, and had no shortage of friends. He was loud and boisterous and often surrounded by people, particularly of the female variety.

Midorima, on the other hand, was like an uncharted island somewhere alone in the South Pacific - remote, untouched, and equally inaccessible. And like any good deserted island, he had miles and miles of pristine, white sandy beaches, just begging to be played with. Well, maybe silently begging. At least Takao liked to think so. But he was getting ahead of himself. He hadn't even kissed the guy, _yet_.

By now Takao Kazunari was pretty certain that Midorima Shintarō wasn't as straight-laced as he appeared to be. Shin-chan liked guys, if that whole weird thing with Akashi Takao didn't like to think about was any indication. Teiko's former vice-captain had certainly never shown any interest in girls, much to Takao's own sister's disappointment and the hawkeye was even almost certain that Midorima Shintarō liked _him_.

No one plunked down 25,000 yen to buy a lucky item for someone they considered a friend or even a best friend. No one was that _generous_. Right? And for all the grousing Shin-chan liked to do about how annoying Takao was, the phrase "let's go Takao," was ever-present on his lips. The point was that no one made Midorima Shintarō do something he didn't want to do. So the fact that he happened to spend all his free time with Takao Kazunari meant that he wanted to spend all his free time with Takao Kazunari and if that wasn't "like," Takao didn't know what was.   

You'd think that the fact they both almost certainly liked each other made the situation easy and made dating the next logical step. _You would think._ But this was Shin-chan we were talking about and there was nothing easy about Shin-chan.

For starters, there was Shin-chan's considerable pride to contend with. So even if Takao's logical and well-reasoned suspicions were correct and Midorima did like him back, he might never admit it. The phrase cut your nose to spite your face was tailor-made for guys like Shin-chan. All this to say that conquering Midorima Shintarō was a tall order. And that was just it. His standoffishness, his acerbic personality, his stubborn insistence that he could go through life without connecting, _really_ connecting with another human being was part of Shin-chan's charm. 

Takao _loved_ a challenge. And at 195 centimeters, Midorima was a formidable challenge, as stubborn as he was proud. Then again, Takao was nothing if not persistent. Hawks were birds of prey, after all.

Takao knew the time and the place where it would all go down. This was the sort of thing that required privacy and being high school students, they were surrounded by classmates the entire school day only to be surrounded by teammates at basketball practice in the late afternoon. That left only the time of day when all of Shutoku's players had gone home and Shin-chan had finished sinking the 30-bajillion three-pointers he needed to make every night.

Also, by necessity, Shin-chan would have to be sitting down. Even on his tipped toes, Takao didn't have a prayer when it came to reaching Midorima's scowling lips. There were only a few times a day when Shin-chan was reliably sitting down. The majority of that time was spent in the classroom, but because classrooms were filled with other students and teachers that was a non-starter.    

Takao also lost every night at janken. So, Midorima would most assuredly be sitting down in the cart of the rickshaw during the entire ride home. But because Takao would be driving said rickshaw, the logistics of that were impossible.

That left Takao with the handful of minutes at night when Midorima sat on the bench situated in the middle of the locker room so that he could remove his basketball shoes before hitting the showers and heading home. It was the pressure of meeting that narrow, dwindling window of time that caused Takao to trip, knocking Shin-chan off the bench in the process and landing on top of the irate shooting guard. The impact had also knocked the glasses clear off Midroma's face and Takao was suddenly so close he could count his eyelashes.  

The sputtering protest from the green-haired Cancer was immediate. "Ow. What the hell is wrong with you, Takao?" And it was while Takao was contemplating Shin-chan's very valid question that the ace did the unthinkable. He closed the distance between the two of them in the briefest of chaste kisses.

And just like that, they were dating. If you asked Takao, it was fate. As far as he was concerned, it was a match made in the very same heavens that Shin-chan loved to plan his day around. If you asked Midorima, he'd say he was in the seventh circle of a certain 14th-century Italian author's hell. But that was just because Midorima was a touch overdramatic and a tsundere, through and through. And like any true tsundere, you couldn't take his word at face value. To be fair, Midorima wasn't so much being untruthful as he was in deep, deep denial about how Takao Kazunari fit into his orderly, well-organized and borderline obsessive-compulsive life.

###

Midorima knew he wasn't going to be Takao's first. Takao had had a string of girlfriends. Midorima knew this. One didn't get a preposterous (in Midorima's opinion) nickname like high spec kareshi, without any backing. Takao had even briefly managed to get a girlfriend during basketball tryouts, when they had lined up the freshman along the white tape on the wooden floor in the old gym. She had lasted all of three months. Her excitement at dating a member of Shūtoku's starting lineup quickly waned when Takao proceeded to devote almost all of his free time to basketball practice, and by extension, to Midorima. She was gone before Takao had started carting him around in the rickshaw.

He wasn't even going to be the first guy Takao had been with. That dubious distinction had gone to some faceless goon whose name had been seared into Midorima's brain in a fit of silent rage and secret jealously the instant Takao had recounted the time he'd spent at a basketball sleep away camp just before he'd started high school.

That was the moment when Midorima deduced that Takao suffered from too much freedom and a lack of parental supervision. It was clearly an epidemic among young people their age. Admittedly, Midorima hadn't spent a whole lot of time with Takao's parents. They both worked and when Midorima came over it was to spend time with their son, not with them. So, for all he knew, they could be perfectly decent people, but in that moment he hated them. He hated them for committing the offense of signing their son up for camp miles away from home where he would develop a crush and a short-lived, romantic entanglement with a boy his own age. It didn't sound so scandalous when he put it that way, but Midorima was convinced that there was something nefarious about this Tanaka-whatshisface and by extension Takao's parents for placing their son in this precarious situation that exposed the point guard to this scourge from Sapporo.

That was all there was to it. This unpleasant feeling of nervousness and insecurity. It all came down to bad parenting. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that unlike Midorima, his much more experienced boyfriend had a frame of reference, something or someone to compare Midorima to.

It had nothing to do with the fact that for the first time in his life, he was going to be placing himself in a situation he couldn't prepare himself for. He couldn't exactly spend hours practicing by himself beforehand like he did in preparation for a basketball game. Well, he _could_ , but he didn't see how that would do him much good.

To make matters worse, there weren't any lucky items for this sort of thing, none the Oha Asa had ever told him about anyway. All he had been able to do was read up on the subject in the less than scrupulous dark corners of the internet, late at night, when his parents weren't home and making sure to delete his browsing history obsessively.

Midorima bolted from his sitting position on the bed the minute he heard Takao turn the doorknob to enter his room. It was the closest Midorima had come to jumping out of his skin. Of course he knew it was Takao. Who else could it be? They were alone in Midorima's house. His own inattentive parents had gone on a last-minute business trip and taken his little sister with them, nanny in tow. They would've taken him too if it hadn't been for school.

He had been left behind to concentrate on his studies. And Takao? Well, Takao was spending the weekend at Midorima's because, um, because Takao had invited himself over. For obvious reasons, Midorima had kept the fact that he was home alone from his boyfriend for the better part of the week, but inevitably the shorter male had found out. Takao had been at his house dozens of times before when his parents weren't home, but that was before they had started this kissing thing between them. And somehow being home alone with Takao had now taken on an entirely new meaning.

"Calm down, Shin-chan. It's just me. I even left ya some hot water." The hawkeye gave him a wry smile. It did little to appease Midorima's jitters.

Instead, it made Midorima's insides fill with what felt like molten lava, a sensation he was going to call annoyance. Because that's exactly how he felt at the moment. It was definitely not arousal. Nope, not in the slightest.

Here he was fretting over his impending humiliation: the moment Takao would find out his boyfriend was no good at this sort of thing. It was an event he'd played over and over in his head and to his horror he could only imagine it ending up in abject failure. And there was Takao casually strolling back into Midorima's bedroom - with one towel draped over his neck catching the droplets of water from his damp hair and the other loosely tied at his left hipbone and hanging precariously low around his waist - like he didn't have a care in the world. He just couldn't understand how Takao could be so relaxed about the whole thing.

In a huff of disapproval or maybe to detract from the blush that had bloomed on his cheeks upon seeing Kazunari's bare chest, Midorima grabbed his things and stormed out of the room. As he glanced back, he saw the monogramed "M" of the sage green towel he'd loaned Takao - part of a set his mother had brought back from a shopping trip to the West - fitting snuggly over the point guard's firm butt, like a terry-clothed tramp stamp, like some lewd embroidered bullseye. Takao's cackling told Midorima he'd been caught staring, it also told him Takao had done it on purpose.

Midorima stayed in the tub as long as he possibly could, well after his fingers and toes had turned all pruney. It was a futile exercise in prolonging the inevitable. He decided to get out only because Takao was likely to get bored and barge in here any minute. Given Midorima's present state of undress and the cold temperature of the water, it would only make the situation worse. It's not like they hadn't seen each other naked before. He and half a dozen of his teammates took communal showers after games on a regular basis. But they were alone in his house and this was entirely different.

Reluctantly, he got out of the cold bathwater, Takao had lied about leaving him any hot water, and toweled himself off before blow drying his hair. Unlike Takao, he'd brought his nightclothes with him so that he could change in the bathroom and avoid the guaranteed spectacle in his bedroom.

If he'd been by himself, he would have donned his usual plaid flannel pajamas with their matching robe and nightcap. The appropriate nighttime attire of any self-respecting young man. But being that he had been mercilessly teased for this ensemble during their first overnight training camp and the laughter he'd heard the loudest had belonged to the boy in his bedroom at the moment, he opted to wear what kids his generation had deigned to be socially acceptable sleepwear - charcoal grey sweatpants and a fitted v-neck undershirt.

Takao looked up from the bed and Midorima could swear he'd heard the point guard audibly gulp. His appreciative gaze made Shintarō's cheeks flare up again and all he could do was push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

The eerie thing about it was that everything seemed so _normal._ When he got back to his room, Midorima had half expected Takao to have lit a bunch of candles and maybe thrown rose petals around before taking off all his clothes and planting himself in the middle of the bed in some artful, seductive position like the subject of a painting by some mid-century French master.

If he had walked in on such a ridiculous scene, then he could have justifiably freaked out and maybe even kicked Takao out for being a pervert. But if he freaked out now when nothing looked out of the ordinary, then he would look like the ridiculous one.

As it was, Takao was decidedly not naked. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt which Midorima instantly recognized as one Takao had borrowed but never returned and a pair of his own, appropriately sized boxers which Midorima prayed were the kind that had a snap closure in the front to prevent things from accidentally falling out.

He was also not striking a sultry pose. He was laying on his stomach, legs bent at the knees with his feet in the air. His chin was propped up on one hand while the other flipped through one of Midorima's old basketball magazines. It was one of the Teiko era ones that focused exclusively on the Generation of Miracles and ignored every other player in the country. Midorima knew this was a sore spot for Takao and wondered why the Scorpio had even bothered with it instead of playing a video game or rifling through Midorima's stuff and making a mess like he always did when he came over.

The issue in front of Takao focused on the Kiseki no Sedai's captain. He was on the cover, all fiery red hair and calculating eyes, somehow managing to look both regal and condescending at the same time. And while Takao found all of Midorima's former teammates annoying in varying degrees, he saved a special level of disdain for Akashi.

"He's a hard act to follow," Takao said in a melancholy voice that was so at odds with his carefree personality.

Midorima knew the page his boyfriend was looking at without sparing a glace. It was the pull out insert that listed all of the then captain's impressive stats. But he also knew that Takao wasn't referring to Akashi Seijūrō's accomplishments on the court.

If Takao had realized the instant their lips had clumsily met for the very first that Midorima Shintarō had never locked lips with another human being, he had had the decency not to mention it. Midorima had wanted to be forthright with Takao and so he had admitted to having had a crush on Akashi. But he hadn't meant to intimate that they had had a physical relationship.

"I'm the one who should be nervous, right now. I've never done this before," he said, trying to clarify any misunderstanding over Akashi.

"Neither have I. Not with a guy anyway." Takao added, sounding a bit cheerful in response to the news Shin-chan had covertly imparted about Akashi.

Midorima looked at him like he'd sprouted a second head. "What? What about that guy from camp?"

Now it was Takao's turn to look at Midorima like he'd grown an extra appendage. "Tanaka-san?" Takao exclaimed and Midorima swallowed wondering if there was more than one guy in his boyfriend's repertoire of past conquests.

"Well, yeah?"

Takao started laughing and it was that side splitting, loud, uncontrollable, whole body laugh that infuriated Midorima because it was almost always directed at his expense.

"You thought - -?" He wiped a tear from his eyes. "You thought Tanaka-san and I had -- ?" He was laughing so hard now he could barely speak. "I was like _15_. We made out sloppily behind the bleachers. But that was it. You and I have done that already. _Oh man_ , Shin-chan. That's a good one."

Takao's laughter was dying down when suddenly Midorima's bubbled up. It was relief and maybe a bit of elation that had caused the normally guarded tsundere to chuckle.

And then they were making out and if Midorima was rough with Takao, if Midorima felt possessive of what was his, he could hardly be blamed for it. And then in a burst of unexpected boldness, he was pulling the shirt over Takao's head because Tanaka-whatshisface never made it this far, because Tanaka-whatshisface could eat his heart out.

And then something Kazumi had told him earlier when he had gone over to pickup Takao suddenly popped into his head.

". . . Hey, Takao."

"Hmmm?" Takao looked like he was a million miles away at the moment, but Midorima plowed through anyway.

"This morning, your sister said she's not going to make fun of me anymore . . ." She'd looked really sad about it too. Like someone had broken her favorite toy.

"Oh. _That_." Takao seemed to have regained his senses, rubbing the back of his head, looking kind of sheepish. "Mom told her she couldn't tease you anymore. Now that you're my boyfriend."

Midorima sputtered. The implications of Takao's statement settled all over his features, like a rose-colored sandstorm.

Perhaps Takao had sensed Midorima's changing mood, because he'd moved out from under him. He'd even managed pull his shirt back on without being too obvious.

"They know?!" Embarrassment be damned, Midorima was feeling nervous for an entirely different reason now. Maybe he'd heard wrong. He'd never had hearing trouble before, but one could always hope.

"Of course, Shin-chan," Takao responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like Midorima had just asked him if he loved playing basketball.

Evidently Shintarō had taken Takao's sanity and sense of self-preservation as a given. A gross miscalculation.

"Y-you told them?" Midorima was not prone to stuttering.

"Of course, Shin-chan." There he went again answering in that incomprehensible matter-of-fact tone.

Shintarō allowed his mind to briefly consider what would happen if he'd announced to his own parents that he and Takao were dating. He could feel the color drain from his face, he had to fist his hands to keep them from noticeably shaking.

"You alright Shin-chan? You look kinda pale."

Feeling dizzy, Midorima flop back allowing the mattress to catch him and stared up at the ceiling. Takao moved closer to him on the bed.

"Relax Shin-chan. It's no big deal. My parents know I'm bi."

Still at a loss for words, Midorima turned his head to the side so he could look at this strange creature beside him.

Takao chuckled at the uncharacteristically befuddled expression on the shooting guard's face. "Seriously. They've known for years. They don't think anything of it. It's who I am."

Midorima resumed staring at the ceiling, because Takao wasn't making any sense right now. He might as well have told him he was raised by unicorns, because parents like that just didn't exist. He couldn't wrap his mind around this being "no big deal." His own parents would disown him if they knew. His mother would be hysterical and turn on the waterworks and his father would yell at him. There would be a lot of yelling and crying. _Ugh_. The whole thing would be awful.

He could taste bile burning the back of his throat. This couldn't end well for him. This thing. This uncertain, nascent thing that had only just started between him and his best friend. It couldn't end well. It couldn't go on and it had only just started. Much to his shame he felt the tears stinging his eyes and he swallowed thickly, trying to clear the lump in his throat. He didn't want this to end, not by a long shot. Not ever.

And then, as if he wasn't humiliated enough, he felt Takao run his fingers through his hair. It was intended as a comforting gesture; he would've described it as motherly, except his own mother didn't do stuff like that; she wasn't the type. He told himself that at least Takao hadn't tried to wipe the tears that were now flowing in earnest.

They stayed like that for some time. Takao turned toward Midorima, balancing his head on his elbow, his other hand running through the ace's hair. Midorima was on his back, refusing to look at anything that wasn't the ceiling fan revolving overheard, refusing to speak until he was sure his voice wouldn't crack.

"When I was in middle school," he swallowed thickly, "my parents threw a birthday party for me. It was mostly my mother's idea. It just happened to coincide on a day my father was home. She was happy that I had made the team. That I was finally part of something, that I was part of a group. I've never been good at making friends and she mistook team practice for camaraderie. She seemed so proud of me and I didn't want to let her down, so I went along with it. I couldn't invite the whole team, there were over a hundred players, but I agreed to invite the first string. It was a disaster, of course. Like it always is when the six of us get together. Even back then, the cracks in the armor were starting to show. Anyway. I caught Aomine in my dad's study ogling over his medical textbooks. I'm sure I don't have to tell you which books he was drooling over."

Takao giggled no doubt picturing middle-school Midorima's horrified expression at being confronted with pictures of the female anatomy.  

"I kicked him out of course and put everything back the way it was. Or at least I thought I had. That evening my dad called me into his study. He knew exactly which books had been misplaced. The thing is he didn't punish me for going through his things like he'd done when I was five and got my hands on his medical kit. He didn't even scold me. He told me that I was growing up. He told me it was natural to be curious about what women looked like down there, but that I should've asked him first. He sounded happy about the whole thing. He sounded relieved and even proud of me. That's when I knew. I knew I couldn't tell him." 


	6. Chapter 6

Midorima hissed loudly in Takao's ear. The fact that he was so _vocal_ (or at least more vocal than in other situations) had been a pleasant surprise for the point guard.

It wasn't like Shin-chan was a shrinking violet. He certainly had no qualms expressing his derision, disdain, or disapproval of any given situation, no matter _how_ ill-advised, even under imminent peril of a projectile pineapple punch to the pate. It was the positive emotions that gave him trouble; those seemed to get all jumbled up in his throat and never quite find their way out.

Shutoku's ace was weird that way. He was weird in a lot of ways, but Takao wouldn't have him any other way.

A grunt a few seconds later followed by a damp familiar warmth in his hand and Takao couldn't help himself, "I thought you said Scorpio came first today, Shin-chan," he laughed. 

Clearly picking up on the double entendre, Midorima groaned his response, "Your puns are worse than that Serin player's."

Whether Shin-chan actually knew Izuki's name or not, Takao wasn't sure and couldn't care less at the moment.

"Besides, who says we're finished." Midorima's voice was low and velvety and filled with promise. It would've made Takao shiver in anticipation even if Shin-chan's hands hadn't already been in position.

As matters progressed, Takao began to wonder whether his boyfriend had done it on purpose. There was a patience to his ministrations that hadn't been there a couple of minutes ago when they had both had their hands down each other's pants, said articles of clothing being hastily discarded. 

The shooting guard was usually very good at holding out. _Too_ good. His stamina on and off the court was impressive. To the point where it almost gave Takao an inferiority complex at being unable to bring his boyfriend to a swift, resounding resolution the way the point guard practically melted whenever Shin-chan touched him with those perfectly manicured, fastidiously-cared-for large hands.

It soon become clear to Takao that what he thought was just them messing around like they normally did was actually foreplay and that Shin-chan had folded uncharacteristically early to take the edge off so he could concentrate on the brunette. The thought sent another thrill down Takao's spine or maybe it was the way Shin-chan's hands were slowing inching towards hitherto unexplored backcountry.

They had already discussed what their roles would be. But that had been _months_ ago. Back when they had been firmly stuck in second base territory and Takao had been itching to steal third. All he had to go by then was a rub down in an empty, poorly-lit locker room, over basketball shorts no less. At the time, he would have agreed to anything. At the time, he would have agreed to climb the flagpole naked on a hot summer day during a school assembly, if it meant getting anywhere with his ace.

He was no stranger to seeing Shin-chan full frontal the way he'd seen all of his teammates, in the drafty and barely insulated confines of Shūtoku's very cold locker room. But being naked in the curtailing context of that shriveling environment and being naked when Shin-chan was ready to go were two very different things. _Holy hell._ He wasn't sure how he had missed _that_. He began to wonder if his boyfriend had been holding out on him back then. If he had been wearing compression shorts underneath his practice uniform because there was no way that this compared to what he thought he was getting back then.

Now that he had seen Shin-chan in all his bountiful glory, now that he had spent weeks upon gratifying weeks exploring the pristine, unspoiled breathtaking landscape that was Midorima Shintarō, he was struck by the enormity of the problem. He thought that in all fairness, he deserved a do over. Given their vast size differentials, their positions should be reversed. Otherwise, this was going to hurt, _a lot_. But this wasn't exactly the time to reopen negotiations, not when he was so close to the promise land.

Clearly, Takao had miscalculated when he had agreed, somewhat reluctantly, that when the time came he would play catcher, so to speak. Neither one of them had wanted to play that position. But given that Takao's high-strung little hothouse orchid had looked positively scandalized, pale green eyes going wide like he was going to pass out at the mere suggestion that maybe he might like to start out at the bottom, Takao had decided that if he was ever going to get within striking distance of home plate, he was going to have to relent.

The thing was that Shin-chan was _so_ pretty. And yeah, Takao should have his head examined for thinking that someone that tall and with that much muscle mass was pretty. But Shin-chan was and no one could convince him otherwise. Takao was of the firm conviction that someone that pretty deserved to be treated like a princess and taken care of, deserved to be pampered and coddled and spoiled until he just couldn't take it anymore and begged for mercy (Takao was a fan of begging even if in all likelihood he would be the one doing it). It was just the natural order of things, as far as he was concerned.

In every one of Takao's fantasies that was exactly the way it went down. It was Shin-chan who was the one gasping and writhing beneath him and not the other way around. So while Takao had begrudgingly agreed to be the receiving party, he had done so with the silent resolution that one day, he would climb Mt. Midorima. Shin-chan wasn't the only one with lofty goals.

"Wait. Are we really doing this?" Takao's voice was that of a man who'd stumbled upon a hidden treasure, completely unexpected and riddled with disbelief.

There was a deliciously wicked grin on Shin-chan's beautiful face that told Takao that _yes_ , this was actually happening.

The last time they had come this close to actually doing it had been the weekend he'd slept over at Shin-chan's when both his parents had been out of town on a business trip and Takao's sister had somehow managed to cockblock him without even being there. That was a whole semester ago and something about that night had spooked Shin-chan, steered him off course. Since then, they had done other stuff together to relieve the pressure of being two athletic guys with healthy libidos and a lot of unsupervised time on their hands, but Shin-chin hadn't come this close to the actual act since then.  

" _Seriously_? You're ready for this?" The expression on Takao's face was not unlike those unsuspecting dolts on TV who are greeted with balloons, a giant check, and a camera crew upon opening their front door.

Takao did not want to dissuade his boyfriend in any way, shape, or form, _far from_ \- Midorima was like that proverbial horse who'd been led to water and once he'd gotten there he'd taken his sweet time developing a thirst - but there were certain _accoutrements_ that were required for this sort of thing and a mad-dash to the convenience store would certainly interrupt the flow of things.

Not that that minor detour would deter Takao in the slightest. He just needed to know so he could get his pants on and find his wallet, _pronto_.

"Naturally. I've done everything possible to prepare myself." Shin-chan responded banally, as if he were talking about his infallible three-pointers and not the subject that had consumed all of Kazunari's dreams and the greater part of his waking thoughts like an unattended wildfire in the middle of a dry spell.

And then in an unexpected, rare moment of unguarded uncertainty he said, "that is, if you want to too, nanodayo," as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Sometimes, Shin-chan was cuter than a rickshaw teeming with kittens. Takao couldn't help himself, he lunged at his protesting boyfriend, peppering his face with kisses. 

"Of course, I want to. It's with you, _ne_?" he responded.

What Shin-chan had meant by preparing himself was that he'd somehow managed to get his hands on a box of condoms and lube. The lube that Takao had seen in the drug store, but had never had the courage to actually purchase, was the kind that was pink and had hearts all over the packaging. It promised all sorts of interesting hot and cold sensations for "him" and "her."

The kind that Shin-chan had was of the clinical variety. The box was plain and white and had a drawing of a hexagon on it with some medical jargon that was beyond Takao's level of comprehension. There was no doubt Shin-chan had raided his father's medical supplies. Unlike the liquidy stuff Takao had seen at the store, this one was the consistency of clear toothpaste and came in the same sort of tube. The origin of the condoms was more of a mystery until Shin-chan let it slip that he'd told the convenience store clerk it was a lucky item. That was certainly one way of putting it.

He'd like to say that everything was prefect, that it was the best sex of his life. He'd like to say that he was a natural and that Shin-chan's formidable skills on the court - the precision and accuracy he had spent years honing - had translated seamlessly into the bedroom. He'd _like_ to say that. But that would've been an outright lie. The truth was so far from perfect it was downright comical. And Takao's unfortunate habit of laughing at everything only made it worse for an already agitated Shin-chan.

It was either nervousness or eagerness that caused Shin-chan to place the condom the wrong side up, even though he had practiced this part before Takao had came over. And then when the condom wouldn't roll down because it was facing the wrong way, he started to panic. Takao, always eager to lend a hand when it came to Shin-chan's privates, had rushed in to help him only to bump his forehead on the shooting guard's chin. Because of their height difference and because of Shin-chan's unfortunate habit of worrying his lip when he was concentrating on something, the collision caused the green-haired tsundere to bite down hard.

The slew of curses that erupted from his boyfriend's mouth made dirty talk sound like a very promising prospect to Takao. His excitement at that revelation, however, was tampered considerably when he looked up and saw the blood gushing from Shin-chan's frowny-faced mouth. Takao may have been new to this whole sex with a guy thing, but even he knew that making your partner bleed was not a good start.

Midorima's quick trip to the bathroom to clean up had ensured that they both were flagging by the time he came back and they had to start the process all over again. Thank goodness for short refractory periods or the whole thing would've been an even bigger disaster. Takao was glad he hadn't initiated this in Shūtoku's showers because they surely would've run out of time and hot water before things really got going.

Getting Takao ready for the main event was another story all together and no less painful. To say things didn't run smoothly, was putting it mildly. At some point they misplaced the lube only to find it when it came in contact with Takao's elbow, squeezing half its contents onto Midorima's sheets. Neither one of them had anticipated how long it would take for things to loosen up to the point where Takao could be more _accommodating_ or how hot and bothered the act itself would make them both feel. As a result, they each blew their tops, before Midorima had finished the prep.

When finally, _finally_ , they got into the swing of things, Shin-chan had been so desperate, wound up so tightly by the whole process that it was a short-lived victory. But by then the novelty of having the equivalent of a hot poker shoved up his nether regions had worn off for Takao that he didn't even complain about his boyfriend's quick exit.

In the end, Shin-chan finished Takao off the way they had started, with his bare, talented left hand while he ran the other through the hawkeye's raven locks. And maybe it was because he was so moved by the gravity of the occasion, by what had transpired between them, that he didn't stray from Takao's lips for even the briefest of moments, afraid of what his normally restrained, overly cautious heart might say to Kazunari.

It was glorious and perfect even if nothing had gone right. And when Takao finally came down from that warm, hazy place only Shin-chan seemed capable of taking him to, he laughed, overcome by a feeling of affection and glee.

"Guess it really was my lucky day. Huh, Shin-chan," He quipped as he pillowed his head against the shooting guard's firm chest.  

Midorima rolled his eyes. "You're incorrigible," he muttered, not wanting to encourage Takao's terrible puns.

From where he lay, the point guard could feel the rumble of Midorima's voice as he spoke. It was a pleasant feeling, not unlike a cat's purr. Takao sighed contentedly. There was no place on the planet he'd rather be than in Shin-chan's strong arms.

"Yeah," he agreed, "but you love me."

"Humph," Midorima responded as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again.

He didn't deny it and with his other arm his pressed Kazunari closer to him. That was enough of an affirmation for Takao. Hell, by Midorima standards it was practically a declaration of love and if Shin-chan hadn't been so keen on avoiding eye contact right then, he would've seen the adoring smile on his point guard's face.


	7. Chapter 7

When they moved in together after high school, it was a given. It didn't surprise any of their friends. It was the natural progression of their relationship. Though for the sake of Midorima's parents, they still kept up appearances by renting a two-bedroom flat, instead of a one-bedroom one like most couples their age.

They went to different universities, of course. Midorima had always been destined to follow in his father's footsteps and matriculate in the top school in the country, where he was expected to excel in his studies even among the brightest minds in his class.

Takao was smart, but he had never been one of those students who applied themselves to their studies and as a result his grades were decedent, but not impressive. Still, he managed to gain admission to a respectable, though far from vaunted, school where he spent the next three years bouncing around between majors because he couldn't quite figure out what the hell he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He thought that 21 was awfully young to make such life altering career decisions, yet when it had come to who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, that decision had been easy and one he had made years ago.

Takao didn't sleep a single night in his "bedroom" during university. But when medical school rolled around he was extremely grateful for the spare futon in the other room. The same borderline obsessive-compulsive pursuit of perfection Shin-chan had brought to the basketball court and later to undergrad guaranteed that he was surrounded by medical textbooks and studying well into the early morning hours.

It was during Midorima's first year of medical school that it happened. He had been summoned home by his father on an unassuming Saturday.

If Takao had been even casually acquainted with aesculapian circles when he and Shin-chan had officially met on the first day of Shūtoku's basketball tryouts, which he hadn't been (what 16-year-old was?), he would've recognized the name Midorima as a type of surgical procedure pioneered by Shin-chan's father. It was some sort of stent placement protocol that reduced the risk of complications from open-heart surgery by a third, or something like that. Takao didn't know. He eyes went all glassy at the mere sound of medical mumbo jumbo, unless of course they were roleplaying and then he was all ears.

It was the reason Dr. Midorima was so prominent and the source of his great fortune. Not that the family was hurting for cash to begin with. The Midorimas had been well-heeled since the Edo period. In hindsight, Takao should have pieced it together sooner. He hadn't known anyone else in high school (except for maybe that heterochromatic little emperor he despised so much) whose daily allowance was generous enough to afford all of life's essentials -- necessities like a cuckoo clock, a vintage ham radio, and a Densuke watermelon, all in the same week.

Sometimes he wondered if Oha Asa had just been fucking with Shin-chan all those years. If their high school had hosted a scavenger hunt during their tenure, Shin-chan alone would've ensured their class came in first. In hindsight, the owner of that antique shop near their old high school had been a little too eager to extend a line of credit to a 16-year-old. It all seemed really obvious _now_ , but Takao never claimed to be attentive when it came to stuff like that.

Anyway, Shin-chan's father had been a brand new doctor when he'd made this breakthrough - like before he had even met Shin-chan's mother - and it was a procedure that was still used today, so instead of establishing a normal medical practice like most quacks, he traveled all over the world lecturing other surgeons on how to do this one thing. The man was a brilliant physician (it was no mystery where Shin-chan got his brains from) who had invented a procedure for inserting a plastic doohickey (or "stent" if you wanted to be fancy) that continued to save a great many lives, but that was the extent of his good qualities. He was an absentee-father, a terrible husband and a generally all around asshole and Takao had seen too much of the carnage he left behind to think otherwise.

If Midorima's mother had appeared youthful to Takao when he had first met her all those years ago, it was because she really was. She had been a former Miss Kyoto and a cherry blossom princess before that. And that was all she got to accomplish in life before fate shitted all over her. She was barely out of high school when she locked eyes with a handsome, well-known doctor and she had been too young and naïve to know she should run the other way.

When Takao was younger, he had viewed the tiny woman as a sympathetic figure, someone to be pitied. A beautiful, delicate flower who'd been trampled by life. As Takao grew older, he came to view her in a different light. Yes, she had suffered greatly, watched helplessly as the pretty nurses and secretaries passed through her husband's life like a revolving door, but she wasn't blameless.

Shin-chan's little sister was an anchor-baby of sorts. There was a reason he and Shuzuko were so far apart in age. And when that misguided attempt wasn't enough to keep her husband's pale green eyes from straying, she had called it quits. Shuzuko hadn't even been walking yet when she had decided she'd had enough of being a wife and mother. Although it was temporary and she had come back, she had still abandoned her children for that brief period of time. She had checked out and even though she had returned and was physically still with her family now, Takao wasn't sure she ever came back from that trip. Shin-chan certainly never recovered - his abominable people skills, his inability to relate to his peers, his mistrust of others were as much her fault as they were her husband's - and Takao was too protective of his boyfriend to think kindly of the people who'd hurt him.

So when Takao was presented that afternoon with the option of joining Shin-chan on an involuntary pilgrimage to see the two unhappy souls who had created him or staying home and waiting for the handyman to come fix their garbage disposal, he had jumped at the latter. Takao would've chosen a do-it-yourself root canal or an at-home ball waxing kit over a visit to see Shin-chan's parents on most days.

That was how Takao had found himself with an entire, mostly unencumbered Saturday afternoon to edit the proofs from his hobby turned supplemental paycheck. He had a day job of course, writing sports stories for a small monthly publication, but he had recently taken up areal photography. It was happenstance that he still had his old camera equipment and Kise needed to log-in some flight hours now that he had his pilot's license.

He had joked with Shin-chan that this was his way of helping those less fortunate souls who weren't blessed with the hawkeye see things from his perspective. Of course, his actual field of vision -- the approximate length and width of a basketball court -- wasn't nearly that wide, but there had been some truth to that statement.

It was an activity that Takao enjoyed immensely and had made his dependably paranoid boyfriend extremely nervous, causing the green-haired giant to resort to adorable death threats, _If that dilapidated rust trap goes down and anything, I mean anything, happens to Takao. Kise, I swear. I swear, I'll kill you_. Nevermind that if the plane went down there would be nothing left of Kise _to_ kill.

It was funny how the members of the Kiseki no Sedai that Takao got along with corresponded perfectly with the ones the tsundere deemed most annoying. Shin-chan insisted that Serin's old number 11 was of the wrong blood type to qualify as good company and that Kise was one of the most insufferable human beings on the planet; he had even phrased it in those words. It was a title he had once bestowed upon Takao, but they hadn't known each other very long then and the Shin-chan back then had no idea how truly annoying Takao could be when he set his heart and mind to it. Kazunari's teasing of Shin-chan hadn't relented any just because they were boyfriends. He hadn't eased up on Shin-chan just because he could now say with absolute certainty that Midorima Shintarō was the love of his life.

On the other hand, Takao couldn't understand why Shin-chan still played shogi and traded text messages with Teiko's former captain when the guy was as unpleasant as a snakebite. It was like the friends he liked most were inversely proportional to the ones Midorima found tolerable and vice versa. It made planning dinner parties at their apartment a Herculean task.

The panoramic shots Takao took weren't something he could develop himself in a make-shift darkroom. As a result, he had to send the images out to be printed before he could start the editing process at home. It required lots of space and Takao had been sprawled out in the living room -- scraps from last week's photo shoot, a bird's eye view of Shimokitazawa, strewed all over the tatami -- when Shin-chan came home.

When he heard the jangle of the key in the door, Takao's ears perked up instantly. He knew something was wrong, something was terribly, terribly wrong by the heavy thud with which Shin-chan dropped his shoes off in the genkan, before making his way into the living quarters of their shared apartment.

By the time Midorima's face was visible from the hallway, the hairs on Takao's nape were standing straight up.

The normally pale medical student looked whiter than a block of tofu and for all the scowls Takao had seen over the years, Midorima had never looked more stricken. He seemed unsteady, like his knees were going to give out on him at any moment, and all 79 kilograms of him would come crashing down. It was this thought that prompted Takao to lower the green-haired giant onto the tatami where they could both sit.

"Shin-chan?" Takao was dreading it, but he couldn't take the suspense for another minute. There was a part of him that simply had to know. There was a part of him that already knew and was just awaiting the grim confirmation.

"He knows." Midorima voice was rough, like sandpaper. Like he had stopped somewhere for a good cry before composing himself and heading home.

Kazunari didn't need any elaboration. He understood the situation perfectly. He was going to cry now, just as soon as he got over the shock of his whole world crumbling around him. Any minute now the tears would start flowing.

"How?" Takao's voiced cracked.

It was not like they were discrete, not anymore. Keeping up appearances was hard and even in public they weren't as careful now as they had been in the beginning. They were open with their friends and honest with anyone who asked about their relationship. But even so, they didn't flaunt it and they certainly had never kissed or held hands or even stood too close together in front of Midorima's parents.

Deep down Takao knew it had always been a matter of "when," not a matter of "if." After all, they couldn't be roommates for life without arousing some suspicion and eventually Shintarō would be expected to marry. Takao swallowed bile at the thought. Still, he had naively expected that he would have a few years left -- at least until Midorima finished medical school, maybe even through his residency -- before reality came crashing down.

Shin-chan's mother was well-versed in the art of turning a blind eye. She'd been doing it for years when it came to her own husband and his chronic philandering. Whether or not she knew her son was in a relationship with another man, had never been a concern for Takao. Midorima's father, on the other hand, was not so obtuse and he wouldn't be so forgiving. It was only his general lack of interest in his son's life that had allowed their relationship to go unnoticed for so long.

"He wanted to introduce me to someone. The daughter of a colleague. I had no choice. I had to tell him the truth." His voice was unsteady, like he was about to cry.

Things weren't so precarious as they had been in high school or even at university. Thanks to his stellar grades, Shin-chan was on scholarship and his parents were no longer footing the tuition bill like they had when he was a pre-med student. Takao had a job now and though it didn't pay great, the hours were flexible and he could always sell more of his photos and pick up a part-time gig, if need be. They would have to worry about coming up with the money to pay for Midorima's textbooks next semester, but that was a long way off.

Midorima's parents still paid for their apartment, an old habit left over from when Shin-chan was in undergrad and they had first leased the place. Takao knew he couldn't swing the rent here, even working extra jobs, but they could always move to a smaller place, if Dr. Midorima chose to throw out his own son.

Takao knew that as bad as things were at the moment, they could get by. They could make this work. That is, if Shintarō was still willing to participate in this failed experiment in cohabitation.

And that was it. That was the big "if" that was at the root of Takao's fears and anxieties over their relationship being discovered. He realized at that moment that it wasn't so much a fear of Midorima's parents finding out. That had just happened and it already sucked. But he didn't give a shit about them or their disapproval; they wouldn't know a loving, committed relationship if it bit them in their silk kimono-clad asses. He and Midorima could navigate through the turbulent waters of the next few years together until Shin-chan sat for his boards. It wasn't going to be easy; but, they could do it.

It was the big "if," that if he were forced to choose between honoring his parents, upholding family obligations, and fulfilling his duties, he would choose all those things over Kazunari. It was that probability that left the younger man frozen in place, afraid to move lest it all disappear. Takao closed his eyes in a childish attempt to undo the nightmare of the past 30 minutes and make it all go back to the way things were this morning when his biggest headache was getting chided for dropping eggshells into the garbage disposal.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I guess this is it."

Takao choked back a sob at Midorima's response. _Shit._ This was really happening. They were going to break up.  
  
There must've been a look of abject despair on Kazunari's face that jolted Shintarō out of his own despondency.  
  
"Oh _no_. I don't mean _that_. No. Heavens no. Not that. Never that."

Unable to keep to himself any longer, Takao threw his arms around his boyfriend, sobbing against him in earnest. He buried his face in Shin-chan's shirt as relief washed over him like a wave following a storm; it felt like home and safety and a thousand shared memories all rolled into one.

Midorima tightened his grip on the smaller man, running his fingers through dark hair, "Of course I'm not leaving you, _idiot_."

Takao smiled at the odd term of endearment. Shin-chan used the word "idiot" the way most people used "sweetheart" or "baby."


	8. Chapter 8

They decided to stay in their apartment until the rent payments from Shin-chan's parents stopped coming in. They were on good terms with the landlady having been such reliable tenants for so many years and when they explained the situation, she agreed to tack on the deposit to whichever month was going to be their last month's rent so that they wouldn't have to move out on such short notice.

Serin's former shadow and light had been kind enough to offer to let Shūtoku's former shadow and light move into Kagami's dad's old room when the time came, so that they didn't have to take the first apartment they saw just because they needed a place to sleep in. Having a room on standby at their friends' house should they need it was nice, it took some of the uncertainty away from being nomads in their own home, but Takao was all too cognizant of the fact that his boyfriend wanted to share close living quarters with Kuroko about as much as he wanted to visit a cat cafe -- that is to say, not at all. In any case it would have to be a short stay lest the former Teiko teammates murder each other.

They also decided that it was a good idea to get rid of a lot of the less portable, unnecessary items they had accumulated over the years -- and thanks to Shin-chan's now mercifully waning obsession with Oha Asa, they had accumulated a ton of shit.

The things they couldn't get rid of (and didn't use frequently) were packed into boxes so that when the time came it wouldn't be such a gargantuan task. In theory these were all good ideas, in practice however, the bulk of the packing fell squarely on Takao's shoulders. Being a medical student, and a first year one at that, meant that Shin-chan barely had time for sequential meals and a bath on most days.

The upside to having collected lucky items like a Western usher collects an offering on Sunday mornings, that is to say _religiously_ , was that at least some of the stuff Shin-chan had shelled out good yen for had been expensive and could still be sold back to the antique store from whence they came. 

When all was said and done they had a healthy little emergency fund cushion thanks to Takao's visit to the antiques dealer, enough to cover textbooks for next year and most of the deposit for their new place. Takao didn't even want to think about how much more money it would've been if Shin-chan hadn't spent it on lucky items in the first place. 

In the end, Takao left some of their clothes in the master bedroom closet and a few pots and pans in the kitchen, but everything else was put into moving boxes, sold back, or given away. All that was left for them to do was wait.

It was the period of their lives that Takao would later (much, much later) jokingly refer to as their spring cleaning.

###

They were in bed together. Shin-chan was engrossed in an article one of his professors had published in a medical journal and Takao was flipping through a crime-thriller he had borrowed from Riko entitled _You, Me and the Dog_. It was actually a riveting novel filled with suspense and interesting (read: ridiculous) characters, but Takao always had trouble concentrating when he was this close to Shin-chan and said male was preoccupied with something other than Kazunari. Unsuspecting Shin-chan was his favorite Shin-chan. He was about to show his boyfriend how good an interruption could feel when Midorima's phone rang.

It had been three months since Shintarō had spoken to his mother. He and Takao were still surrounded by moving boxes, but the rent payments had continued to come in. She had called to tell him Shuzuko's birthday was coming up. Takao could only hear one side of the conversation, but he had managed to piece that much together.

Of course, Shin-chan already knew this. Despite their age gap, Shin-chan was very close to his little sister. He spoke to her almost every day and cared for her immensely. Takao did too. He had started dating Shin-chan when Shuzuko was just a toddler and he had been present at every one of her birthdays since.

Takao and his own little sister were only 14 months apart and even though he loved her, they fought like cats and dogs. Even as adults, they got on each other's nerves. It was the kind of normal sibling relationship that flourished precisely because you could focus on the petty shit and not have to devote time to worrying about your parents being so fucked up. 

The bond that had been forged between Shintarō and Shuzuko, on the other hand, was the kind you'd find in the trenches; two soldiers who had suffered through a harrowing experience together. After all, no one else could really understand what it was like to grow up the way they had, to be raised by their specific parental unit.

"Is Takao invited?" 

"Is _he_ going to be there?"

"Very well then." 

### 

The day arrived and they were received at the door as if they weren't expected to actually show up. Midorima's mother looked nervous, like she wasn't quite sure how to greet her own son, but Shuzuko threw her arms around her big brother and her de facto big brother and escorted both of them inside the cavernous home. She was a gregarious young girl who looked so much like Shin-chan they would've been mistaken for twins if they had been close in age. 

Dinner was a stuffy, pompous affair. But that was par for the course at the Midorima residence. It was to the natural order of things when you had more courses than people. After several failed attempts at starting a conversation, Midorima's mother resigned herself to staring at the liquor cabinet like it had an invisible padlock on it and she was trying to remember the combination.

Half way through dinner they heard Dr. Midorima come home and an uncomfortable feeling of foreboding fell upon the four of them like an unexpected, afternoon thunderstorm besetting a group of forsaken picnickers, dampening their plans and filling them with a sense of peril.

No one said a word when the party crasher barged into the formal dining room taking his seat at the head of the table and causing the maid to scramble to put down an extra place setting. He scowled accusingly at everyone at the table, glared at his family like they had all traitorously conspired to throw a dinner party and not invite him. He occasionally drubbed his chopsticks against the fine china and chinked his wineglass as he set it back down, but otherwise cantankerously ate his dinner in complete and utter silence.

The birthday girl looked like she was on the verge of tears and Takao thought it was rich that the man who couldn't keep it in his pants for the sake of his family, who'd had to have a vasectomy after a thankfully false paternity accusation had threatened to end in scandal, was staring daggers at him for having the temerity of being in a committed, long-standing relationship with his son.

And then as if he hadn't banished his son, hadn't told him that he was a disgrace and that he never wanted to see him again (and said all sorts of other atrocities Takao couldn't afford to think about right now lest he vibrate with anger), he asked, "Shintarō, how are your studies?"

Takao almost choked on his sekihan and the sullen matron beside him tried to stifle an audible sob at her husband's unexpected overture.

The young man to whom the question had been posed looked bewildered, like his father was a potted plant who'd just learned to speak. In fact, Takao doubted Shintarō would be any more astonished if it had been the chrysanthemums in the centerpiece in front of him who had made the inquiry.

After a helpful, swift under-the-table kick to the shin from his boyfriend, Shintarō responded that while Professor Yoshida's lectures on the amygdala were fascinating, he thought that his recent paper on its role in the context of social referencing was unpersuasive.

And just like that father and son were discussing the shortcomings of Professor Yoshida's work to the stunned silence of everyone else.

Things had never been great between Shintarō and his father, but they did eventually go back to normal, normal for them anyway. No one ever talked about that one time when Shin-can got kicked out of the family and everyone whose surname was Midorima went on pretending like the whole three-month debacle had never happened.

It was not long after Shuzuko's birthday that Takao unpacked their things -- or rather, what was left of them -- and life resumed the way it always had.

###

Although it felt like forever, Shintarō did finish medical school and like his father before him, graduated at the top of his class. After taking his boards, and passing them with flying colors, he became a full fledged doctor.

Takao thought that Shin-chan was busy before, but when Midorima was accepted as a resident at a prestigious teaching hospital, the hawkeye began to wonder whether his boyfriend still slept in their apartment at night.

Takao's own time was taken up attending high school basketball games all across the city. The small monthly publication he had worked at since graduating from university had given him free reign to write his own sports column and he decided to fill the space by covering the sport he loved.

He developed a knack for finding undiscovered talent, players who were skilled, but got passed over by the glossy magazines. He focused on those players, highlighting their strengths and elevating their profiles in the process. It was the kind of exposition he wished had existed when he was in middle school and everyone and their father was obsessed with the Kiseki no Sedai, overlooking prodigious players like Kyoshi and Mibuchi, and undermining Takao's confidence in the process.

Takao's column was a niche, but one that was steadily gaining eyeballs, especially among talent scouts after several of the players he had identified were making names for themselves at the college level. Of course, this didn't stop his editor -- who knew about Takao's romantic partnership with the Generation of Miracles' vice-captain and his friendship with the others -- from dropping heavy hints about a "where are they now" piece.

Though they lived together, they saw very little of each other during this time. They were both miserable and eventually things came to a grinding halt. Because they couldn't go on like this. Because they needed each other. Because as much as Midorima loved being a doctor, he loved Takao more.

That was when Dr. Midorima Shintarō decided he was going to specialize in neurosurgery, because brain surgery was something that was scheduled ahead of time. Because the steady hands that consistently made their shots in high school, were fully capable of making complex, microscopic incisions that were no less precise. Because he could start his day doing rounds at sunrise and still make it home to Kazunari for dinner.

For his part, Takao decided he liked reviewing the game films better than covering the events in person. It had the advantage of being able to pause and rewind the shots. And if the interviews he scheduled fortuitously coincided with Shin-chan's hospital shifts, well then that was just the way life was going to be. Takao didn't always believe in miracles, but he believed in his Miracle.

The status quo was finally perfect and things are finally starting to balance out for them. Takao didn't want to change a thing. Shintarō had other ideas. 

###

Takao was running late. He was supposed to meet up with Shin-chan for lunch half an hour ago at a family-owned restaurant across town. It was one of many near their former high school, an old haunt from back when Midorima traveled exclusively by rickshaw.

Takao could spot the scowl on his beloved Shin-chan's handsome face before he even entered the restaurant.

Midorima looked put upon. Midorima _always_ looked put upon. Midorima could manage to look put upon even with Takao's face between his milky thighs all while his body told an _entirely_ different story.

"You're late." He barked in lieu of a greeting, snapping his boyfriend out of his sex-fueled solo trip down memory lane, a particularly filthy back alley stroll involving the misuse of medical tape and a pair of forceps. Takao didn't read too much into it, Shin-chan's usual salutations weren't much warmer.

As Takao took his seat, took his rightful place across from his best friend turned lover, he noticed that the place hadn't improved much since their high school days. If fact, it had somehow managed to look shabbier. 

They hadn't been here in years and even back then the food hadn't been very good. Why Shin-chan chose this place over the five-star, white tabled clothed restaurants he normally insisted they dine at was beyond Takao's level of understanding. He chocked it up to one of Shin-chan's whims. He firmly believed that he knew the ace better than anyone else on the planet, but there were still things that eluded the hawkeye.

Shin-chan had always had this haughty air about him. It wasn't off putting to Takao, not anymore. Midorima was just more at home in the polished corridors of a swanky, five-star hotel or at a fancy restaurant than in ordinary, run down places like this where he stick out like a sore thumb, or in his case, a long, slender impeccably manicured finger.

The first time he'd had to slum it in accommodations that were less than what he was used to was during their first overnight training camp with the Shūtoku team. Miyaji has been so incensed with what he perceived to be Midorima's high-maintenance character flaws that the both of them really were picking pineapple chunks out of each other's hair in the bath that first night, Midorima for asking where the concierge's desk was in the first place (no doubt he had a lucky-item related inquiry he wanted to make of the nonexistent employee) and Takao for having the misfortune of standing next to him at the time.

"So, why are we eating here exactly?" Takao's curiosity was finally getting the better of him.

Maybe it was because Shin-chan had always worn his high school uniform buttoned all the way up to the top, but Takao had a definite thing for his boyfriend in turtlenecks. Specifically, black-colored turtlenecks that set off the young doctor's pale green eyes and highlighted his perfect bone structure. By covering the neck, these types of shirts tended to drawn the viewers' focus to the face and Shin-chan had one hell of a face.

In Takao's opinion, he could really give Kise a run for his money in the modeling department. And it wasn't just because Shin-chan was near and dear to his heart. As someone blessed (or cursed) with the hawkeye, Takao was not oblivious to the way Midorima turned heads in public. Of course, his physical perfections didn't end there, but Takao didn't want to get too excited. They were at a family restaurant after all and he needed _that_  physiological response right now like a nun needed a mini skirt.

"I happened to be in the area," he responded dryly. 

The answer didn't surprise Takao. Of course it couldn't possibly be because he felt nostalgic for their old high school days. He got hungry and just happened to be in the neighborhood. That was all there was to it.

Midorima could be a selfish, self-center bastard at times, Takao knew this better than anyone. But as far as whims went, this one wasn't so bad. At least Takao knew the menu well. 

Since nothing had changed and the menu was literally the same food-soiled piece of laminated paper it had been when the couple was in high school, they both ordered what they had normally ordered back then, tataki for Midorima and squid karaage for Takao.

The food came seconds later and Kazunari didn't remember the tentacles being so chewy or the strange aftertaste in his mouth. He tried to wash it down with sake with mixed results before taking another bite.

It seemed to him like Midorima's tataki might be too spicy, because the bespectacled tsundere had wiped his brow with his napkin, twice. He ordinarily only ever sweated from physical exertion, something Takao knew from first hand experience, being the usual source of said physical exertion. Then again, maybe he was sweating over something important, like work.

"Something on your mind, Shin-chan?"

Midorima took a long sip from his can of chilled shiruko looking very much like he too was trying to wash down the taste of his food.

"Taka -- Kazunari." They had long ago crossed that thrilling bridge of saying each other's names for the first time. Maybe it was because Midorima didn't do it often, but hearing his first name in Shin-chan's gravely voice always made Takao's stomach drop, in a good way.

"Yes, Shin-chan?" He asked leaning in closer as he batted his eyelashes and donned that playful smile reserved just for him.

"I want us to spend the rest of our lives together."

The shit eating grin that sprouted on Takao's lips upon hearing his boyfriend state the obvious was so big it split his face in two. He _loved_ when Shin-chan was being lovey dovey. Not just because it was so rare for the caustic 26-year-old, but also because it provided Takao with the opportunity to tease him mercilessly which was his second favorite pastime. The first, of course, involved Shin-chan sans clothing and towering above him. He was certain they would engage in that beloved activity later today. After all, it was Shin-chan's day off and he was not on call until tomorrow night.

" _Awww._ Is Shin-chan being sweet?" He asked while making a show of putting his hand over his brow and peering out the window. "I'm looking for flying pigs," he explained in a tone of mock sincerity.

"Takao! Stop it. I'm being serious," the taller man protested.

"Fine, Shin-chan. But we already live together. What are you getting so worked up about?"

"That's not what I mean."

Midorima paused for a moment, huffed impatiently before taking a big gulp of air like he was about to dive into the deep end of a pool.

And then he rolled his eyes at Takao like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like Takao was forcing him to spell it out for him.

"Kazunari, will you marry me?" He spat the words out of his mouth in rapid succession like they were burning his tongue. 

 _Oh fuck._ This time when Takao's stomach dropped it had nothing to do with Shintarō's use of the word "Kazunari." There was no mistaking it. This was a marriage proposal. This was really happening.

He was feeling queasy now and was sweating in earnest. It was like he was going to throw up, like the contents of his stomach were only paying him a short, social visit and had somewhere else to go. He chalked it up to nerves and this time eschewed the sake for the glass of water on the table. 

Takao had never expected to be proposed to. For starters, he was a guy and guys usually did the proposing, not the other way around. But more importantly he was a guy in love with another guy. This made his chances of receiving a proposal doubly unlikely.

They didn't live in one of those modernized countries where couples like them could legally marry. It was hardly even tolerated as Shin-chan's falling out with his parents during medical school could attest to. There was simply no future in which he had envisioned marriage as a possibility for them. He had long ago come to terms with the societal glass ceiling that had been placed on their type of relationship.

Needless to say he had never spent hours daydreaming about what it would feel like when the man he loved finally proposed to him the way his sister had -- he almost felt bad for whatever poor schlub plucked up the courage to ask her out; they were never going to live up to the hype she had built up. And maybe it was because his never expected it, never even thought about it that his body was reacting in the strangest of ways.

"Well?" Midorima barked impatiently and it was only then that Takao realized he hadn't responded to the proposal. 

He threw himself across the table to the booth where Midroima was sitting with his arms crossed and whispered in his ear, "Yes. Of course I'll marry you." 

Takao could feel the flush on Midorima's cheeks from this position and there was a hesitance in Shin-chan's touch when he pushed Takao off of himself, like he would very much love to return the embrace, except he didn't want to make more of a spectacle than they already had with Kazunari leaning across the table. 

Still, there was a tiny smile on Midorima's lips when Takao returned to his seat and their eyes met again. Kazunari was so happy he couldn't help but laugh.

And then it hit him. The reason they were in this restaurant in the first place. This wasn't just one of the places they used to eat at in high school (if Shin-chan had wanted that, Maji Burger would have also fit the bill and being that it was a restaurant chain was a lot closer to home). This was  _the_ place. The place they went to after their loss to Serin. The place where Takao threw his okonomiyaki at Midroima's head (accidentally of course). It hadn't been a real date back then; they hadn't even sat at the same table and had ended up leaving early. But it had been the first time they'd gone out to eat somewhere together. And who knows, maybe if Serin hadn't been there, it might have been their first date.

Now that Takao thought about it; it was kinda romantic for Shin-chan to have picked this, of all places, to propose when the doctor could've chosen any restaurant in Tokyo. Of course, when Takao told him all this, the tsundere flat out denied it.

"Don't be ridiculous, Takao. It's just a coinci--," Midorima's eyes suddenly became as wide as saucers, looking very much like he'd just realized something.

And in the next instance, before even the desert they had ordered with their meal had come out, Shin-chan plucked down an obscene amount of yen; it was enough to cover their meal, a hefty tip and still have some left over.

At first, Takao thought he was just eager to get home and celebrate properly, but then his own stomach did this twisty-turvy thing and suddenly, he couldn't wait for the check either. It was kind of an emergency.

Thank goodness for Midorima's height and distinct hair color, because he has no trouble flagging down the first taxi cab that passed through the busy street. Takao was clutching his stomach as he crouched into the backseat and didn't even bother buckling up. He knew he was going to need to make a quick exit and decided to chance it. He glanced at Shin-can only once on what felt like an interminable ride home and the grimace on the other's face confirmed they were both suffering the same fate.

Takao had never been so grateful to have a second bathroom. Midorima had already taken possession of the larger, master bathroom. But Takao didn't care. He didn't think he would've made it that far into the apartment anyway. He'd been sweating bullets the entire cab ride back to their apartment and Shin-chan hadn't fared much better. 

Takao contemplated grabbing a blanket from the adjacent guest room - he was going to be in here for the long haul, he might as well get comfy - but he didn't trust himself to be away from the toilet for that long.

Then he remembered his phone was still in the back pocket of his jeans, the ones he had hastily discarded at the foot of the sink in his mad dash to relieve himself of everything he'd eaten at that awful restaurant, followed by what felt like everything he'd ever eaten in his entire life. Every time he thought he was thoroughly cleaned out and there couldn't possibly be anything left, his body surprised him.

And then it hit him. He was engaged. He had a fiancé. And they were going to get married. It wouldn't be a legal marriage, of course, but it would be real to them. 

The bathroom was small enough that he could reach a pant leg without shifting too much. They would have to wait a while before they could mark the occasion properly and in the privacy of their bedroom, for obvious reasons. But there was no reason they couldn't start celebrating early. Once he had freed his phone from its denim prison, he knew exactly who he was going to tell first. 

He tapped the keyboard on his phone with nervous excitement. _Can't talk right now, but . . . . Shin-chan and I are getting married!!!  (_ _´͈_ _ॢ_ _ꇴ_ _`_ _͈ॢ)_ _･*_ _♡_

The response was immediate, _Congratulations, son! We're so proud of you. Your mother's so happy she's crying. Kazumi says she'd better be in the wedding._

After that his phone blew up. His sister must've sent a mass text to all his friends because the congratulatory messages came pouring in from everyone he knew, he couldn't read them fast enough. And he did mean everyone. He even saw one from that jerk-faced little emperor as he was scrolling down.

There were 27 unread text messages in Takao's inbox and counting. And wedged between the list of familiar names was one from Shin-chan. Takao's breath hitched, his heart stopped. His very first text from his newly-minted fiancé. Takao was so happy he could squeal (he may have actually squealed), he couldn't wait to open it. 

 _My phone won't stop buzzing. Who the hell are all these people? I can't answer any of them. I'm obviously indisposed. Idiot._

Ah well. Shin-chan was never one for honeyed word, Takao thought as he typed back a response.

 _I love you soooo much Shin-chan. I'm soooo happy you proposed, even if you did give me food poisoning. (_ _˘_ _³˘)_ _♥_  

The reply text was as immediate as it was predicable, _Die!_

* * *

 **AN:** I knew that Midorima's proposal couldn't go off without a hitch. Something horrible had to happen and then Takao would tell all their friends and laugh about it until tears started streaming down his face for years to come and poor, long-suffering, hapless Shin-chan would be like this: （/｡＼) 

On a different note, this is most definitely what the Midorima siblings would look [like](http://ainiakimoto.tumblr.com/post/86060700265). 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Even though they had been cohabiting for years and living in the same apartment they'd rented just before the start of their first year at university, Midorima got it in his head that now that they were getting married, they needed to find a new place.

Takao was perfectly happy staying put. After all, because of his studies, Shin-chan had been exempted from packing all their stuff the first time around, back when Shin-chan's father thought it would be fun to disown his son during an acute, though mercifully short-lived, case of extreme douchebaggery. Though to be fair, it was a chronic, life-long affliction that still plagued the man with occasional flare-ups. As a result, Shin-chan really had no idea what a pain in the ass moving (or at least packing) was.

They had taken over the lease payments from Dr. Midorima (the heart surgeon) when Dr. Midorima (the brain surgeon) had finished his residency. Now that Dr. Shin-chan was earning the kind of salary you'd expect from a top teaching hospital, they could certainly afford a bigger place. But that wasn't Takao's hangup about moving from their apartment.

"Shin-chan. If it's more space you want, we can always rent a bigger place."

 "I don't want another rental," he snapped, as if they had rented a slew of apartments together when in reality it had only been one and they had only a couple of years of experience paying said rent themselves.

"Why not? Our landlady's been great. She owns several units in the building. Maybe she'll rent us a bigger one."

"We're not renting and that's final."

 Takao could see he was going to have to level with Shintarō and be honest about what the real problem with this new apartment business was.

"Shin-chan. I'm a _sportswriter_ and I don't even work for one of the big glossy publications. It's bad enough that I don't contribute more than a third of the rent on our current place. I couldn't --"

Midorima pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The doctor sighed, having given this speech way too many times before.

"We each contribute the same percentage of our salaries to rent. It's fair," he said in an end-of-discussion tone.

They'd had this conversation a thousand times and he still hadn't gotten it through Takao's thick skull. And people said _he_ was the obstinate one.

"I want something that _ours_. That's yours and mine and if anything were to happen to me, at least you'd have a roof over your head."

This was certainly more than just a roof. While yes, technically, being situated on the top floor in a penthouse apartment would ensure that there was an actual roof over Takao's head, he didn't need the 3,500 square feet underneath or the two parking spaces that went with it. Especially in the grim, dystopian Midorima-less future Shin-chan was envisioning.

Takao dug in his heels. He didn't think he'd want a place like this without Shin-chan to share it with, so he tried reasoning with him.

"Besides, there's no way _I_ could afford the mortgage payments, if you . . . if something were to--, without you," he stammered, having trouble with even the concept of something bad happening to his Shin-chan.

"You wouldn't. I took out a life insurance policy when I started working and you're its sole beneficiary. You're also the beneficiary of my trust. I changed it last year, on my twenty-fifth birthday when it finally vested," he said, as if all this should've been very obvious to Takao. "Surely, I wouldn't saddle you with a place like this if it wouldn't be yours free and clear in the end."

Takao was at a loss for words. A rare occurrence given his proclivity for being the loud and rambunctious one. Midorima liked to say that Takao was noisy, that he talked too much. Yet clearly the man possessed the preternatural ability to render him speechless.

It wasn't the money. Takao had never cared about things like that. It was the thought and careful planning Midorima had put into their future, into the life he clearly had every intent on spending with the other man.

Takao's normally excellent vision went blurry. He could barely make out the frown on the green-haired man in front of him through the tears. He couldn't help it. He was touched and there was only one thing left to say.

"Where do I sign?"

"We have to place a bid on the place first, _idiot_."

Midorima's tone was harsh, but the tiny smile on his lips and the way he quickly reached for his mobile to dial their realtor showed he couldn't be more pleased.

 ###

Takao would've been happy with a small garden ceremony in the city where they had met -- the wedding would be a symbol of their love, even if it had no legal effect -- but Shin-chan wanted their marriage to be a valid one at least somewhere in the world.

After Shin-chan had made that one small request, it was clear they were going to have a destination wedding.

After that, picking the location for their nuptials had been a no-brainer. Shin-chan had a penchant for fine art, good wine, old-school philosophers and gastronomical flights of fancy. And Takao had a penchant for pleasing Shin-chan.

###

When Shintarō was very young, he used to travel a lot with his parents and as he grew older, they still spent the occasional holiday abroad as a family (if nothing else, it made for great photo ops, that Shin-chan's parents could then circulate to all their society friends, giving at least the appearance of a happy home life), so he was no stranger to being on an airplane for copious amounts of time.

Takao had flown with Kise before on short, hour-long trips in a dilapidated heap of metal that was hardly airworthy. But that had been the extent of his air travel. He'd never been to another country, never even had a passport before (he, Kazumi, _and_ their parents all had to get theirs issued for the upcoming nuptials), and he'd certainly never been trapped on a 12 and a half hour flight before.

As the date of the wedding approached, it became clear to Takao that he would need some pharmacological assistance if he was going to survive an entire half-day on a plane.  

The convenient thing about modern medicine was that they had a pill for just about anything. The convenient thing about having a fiancé with a medical degree was that he could prescribe it. Except his fiancé was a wet blanket and instead of simply calling in a script for him to pick up on his way home from work, he made Takao call his secretary to schedule an appointment.

When the day came, Takao showed up early for his appointment. Shin-chan had left instructions with the receptionist that Kazunari fill out a new patient form, even though there was nothing on the form that Shin-chan didn't already know about Takao.

At first, he thought Shin-chan was roleplaying, when the nurse placed him in one of the patient rooms and gave him a paper gown to wear. Fifteen minutes later, he finally caught sight of Dr. Shin-chan in full hospital regalia -- pale green scrubs, white lab coat, a stethoscope draped around his neck like a fox stole. He looked _hot_. And Takao knew hot, he was, after all, intimately acquainted with Shin-chan's o-face.  

Takao was suddenly  _very_ eager for his physical. But his excitement was quickly tapered. It soon became clear that Shin-chan was all business when he refused to take up Takao's enticing offer of a prostate exam while checking his vitals. 

Instead, he called in his nurse and had her draw blood, a lot of blood. Takao hated needles and felt like he was going to pass out. Sadly, it wasn't the prick Takao had been hoping to get.

He left the hospital with his arm bandaged up and he didn't even get so much as a goodbye kiss for his troubles. At least pediatricians gave their patients candy. He didn't even get his medicine, Dr. Killjoy made him wait three days until the results of his liver-function test came back normal.   

Shin-chan had made him jump through _a lot_ of hoops just to get some anxiety medication. Takao suspected the good doctor had even added a few extra ones -- things he wouldn't require of his normal patients -- for good measure, lest Kazunari get any ideas about Shin-chan being a prescription dispensing machine. 

In the end it was well worth it. After their plane took off and they were at cruising altitude, Takao popped his pills, pulled down the shade on his window, reclined his seat all the way back, and slept like a baby the entire flight. When they landed the next morning, Takao looked refreshed and well-rested and Shin-chan's bleary green eyes were blood shot having been unable to sleep a wink thanks to a set of teething triplets whose inconsiderate parents had flown them first class. 

###

They rented an entire vineyard for the weeklong wedding celebrations so that their family and friends could all stay together during the festivities. Like the grooms themselves, many of the guests arrived a few days early, making good use of the free accommodations.

In the end, they had a sizeable turnout. The lead-up to their nuptials was like a mini-Winter Cup reunion, but with less drama and only happy tears. Kazunari wasn't sure if his awestruck editor was more excited about his long-time employee turned friend getting married or about having temporarily acquired unfettered access to a captive Akashi, Aomine, Kise, Kuroko, Midorima and Murasakibara all in the same venue. He was like a kid in a rainbow hair-colored candy shop. And although Takao had put the kibosh on a special wedding day edition of the Kiseki no Sedai, he wouldn't put it past his boss to sneak in a few interviews.

There, in the rustic, quiet beauty of the countryside, set against a warm backdrop of verdant, burgundy, and mustard hues,two best friends committed themselves to sharing a lifetime together. And in a rare show of basic human decency, a truant father made a last minute conference cancellation to arrive just in time to witness his son exchange vows with the man he loved.

The honeymoon started in earnest when all of their friends had returned home several days later. No one was in a hurry to leave such a beautiful place.

Afterwards, when it was just the two of them, they headed north to the City of Lights. There, in that nation's capital, Takao put all those language podcasts he'd spent months listening to to good use by telling every bell hop, tour guide, waitress, and maître d they came across that _yes_ , he did have a husband. Because for the next three glorious weeks they were going to be in a country where they were legally married.

"Excuse me, sir. Is this the metro stop for that famous bistro? The one where all those penniless writers used to hang out at before they had any coin and became famous? I was just telling _my_ _husband_ that it was. But one can never be too sure in an unfamiliar city, right?"

"Pardon me, madam. Would you please tell me where the elevators are to leave the metro? _My husband_ and I have been on our feet all morning and we're just exhausted. _My husband_ and I simply can't take another flight of stairs."

"A table for two please. It's just the two of us. We're on our honeymoon, _m_ _y husband_ , Shintarō, and I."

"Why yes, we're ready to order. I'll have the crêpe suzette and _my husband_ will have the eggs benedict. I was just telling _my husband_ that the guidebook says the eggs benedict here are simply divine. But first, would you mind taking a picture of us? Thank you. Why no, _my husband_ 's not mad that's just his face. It's the red button at the top. Cheese!"

And then maybe, just maybe, he took it a little too far.

"Those eggs benedict you served us didn't sit well with _my husband_. He'd like to know where your toilets are."

"Takao!"

###

In a fit of traditionalism, Shin-chan wanted to wait until after the wedding to move into their new place, nevermind that throughout their engagement they had still cohabitated together at their old place in the same way they had for years.

He had brought Takao up to the floor of the penthouse apartment and blindfolded him when they reached the front door. As Shin-chan picked him up and carried him over the threshold, Takao joked that he'd find a better use for that blindfold later. 

Shin-chan removed Takao's shoes for him in the genkan and placed his large hand on the small of his back as he guided a sightless Kazunari into the rest of their new home.

Takao thought it was cute that his Shin-chan wanted to surprise him, even though he already knew what that surprise was. He was even schooling his features so that when the blindfold came off, he would look pleasantly shocked. He didn't want his adorable husband to go through all this trouble only to feel disappointed because Takao had figured it out.

Shin-chan had hired movers this time around to pack all their stuff while they were on their honeymoon and he had held on to the keys to their new home the two weeks they had been back, absolutely forbidding Kazunari from coming in until everything was ready for him.

Takao was sure Shin-chan had put away all their stuff and furnished the place as a wedding present and when he was allowed to remove the blindfold he saw that he was right.

The place was tastefully decorated in artifacts and modern furniture Takao did not recognize. Shin-chan had clearly outsourced the task to an interior designer and he or she had done a superb job.

But that wasn't the only thing Takao noticed. On the wall, centered above their new, king-sized bed was a framed, panoramic photograph of the neighborhood where Shūtoku High was located. It was a photograph the sportswriter had taken years ago, back when he was still doing aerial photography as a hobby. Now that Kise was a real pilot -- finding refuge from his mob of ravenous stalkers, _er_ fans, behind the locked cockpit doors of a commercial jetliner -- Takao no longer had the opportunity to take these photographs. Of course, he could always shell out the money and charter a helicopter for a few hours, but that would make Shin-chan very unhappy. The young Dr. Midorima was of the opinion that his husband should be safely on the ground as much as possible.

The black and white photograph was part of a collection Takao had done of the 23 wards of Tokyo. Kazunari had sold almost all of his work back when Shin-chan was in medical school and they thought they needed the money because they were going to get kicked out of their apartment by Shin-chan's parents. But he couldn't bear to part with this one, not when it covered so many square meters of happy memories.  

He had stored it in a cardboard poster tube to keep it from getting damaged since that time, and the fact that Shin-chan had found it and had it professionally framed was incredibly sweet.

Who said Shin-chan wasn't a sentimental sap? He had tried to tell their friends that Midorima Shintarō was a hopeless romantic, but no one, absolutely no one, believed him. Some of them, like Aomine, were even rude enough to laugh in the hawkeye's face.

But as Shin-chan proceeded to give Kazunari a tour of his own place, Takao noticed that it hadn't just been their bedroom, many of the walls in their apartment were decorated with the ward photographs he had taken all in matching frames.

"Shin-chan," Takao audibly gasped, "But how?"

 "You had kept a list of contacts, it was just a matter of tracking them down and buying all of them back."

" _All_ of them?"

"Yup. The last holdout came through while we were on our honeymoon. I had Shuzuko pick it up from the guy's house and had it framed when we got back."

Of all the grand romantic gestures, Kazunari had never heard of anyone do something like this. Not in real life, anyway.

His eyes got all watery and he let his new, overstuffed leather couch catch him for a moment. For once, he was glad, very glad none of their friends ever got to see this side of Shin-chan. It was reserved just for him, only for him, and it felt more special that way.

He pulled the wool back over his eyes (so to speak, Shin-chan had used his cashmere sleep mask) and grabbed Midorima's hand leading him out of the living room. 

"What are you doing?"

"No sense letting a good blindfold go to waste, Shin-chan," he said leading his husband towards their new bedroom for the very first time, fully intent on thanking him for his thoughtfulness.

He was stopped almost immediately when he literally hit a wall; he wasn't as familiar with this new layout as he was with the one in their old apartment.

"Ouch."

" _Idiot_."


	10. Chapter 10

Takao knew he wasn't married to the most affectionate man. At least not affectionate in traditional terms. He also knew Midorima loved him, how could he not. After all they had been through together, there was no doubt in Kazunari's mind. 

Shin-chan had his own way of showing he cared. It couldn't be measured in mushy love letters or public displays of enamoredness -- that just wasn't who Shin-chan was and Takao was fine with it. He had long ago accepted that he'd fallen hopelessly in love with a special, persnickety snowflake and actually found his peculiar quirks adorable, _most_ of the time. Even so, it was blatantly obvious to anyone who knew how to look that Shintarō loved Kazunari deeply and over the years, Takao had become an expert at knowing how to look.

So when he heard the front door of their penthouse apartment open at the usual hour and Shintarō failed to announce he was home, Takao didn't think much of it. He continued foraging the large, mostly-empty stainless steel refrigerator in search of ingredients for tonight's supper, before throwing the odds and ends he'd been able to scrounge up into the broth. He figured his Shin-chan had had a particularly rough day in the surgical ward and just wanted some time on his own before dinner.

As it was, Takao himself had gotten home just a short while ago after a monthly staff meeting at the office had run late. There was talk of launching a sports blog and, in all the excitement, time had fled from the passionate, though not handsomely compensated employees of the small, plucky publication. _Man_ , Takao loved his job.

It was moments later, when the former shooting guard wrapped his long arms around the waist of his much smaller spouse, that the alarm bells started ringing in Takao's head. This was by no means normal Shin-chan behavior. It had taken Kazunari _years_ of training to get his undemonstrative husband to kiss him goodbye when he left for work in the mornings at that ungodly hour. And even then, it was easier for the green-haired tsundere to do it when he thought Takao was still asleep.

"Shin-chan?" he couldn't quite keep the panic out of his voice.

Shintarō didn't respond verbally, opting instead to bury his face in Takao's nape, an unlikely gesture that was rendered even more awkward by their marked height difference.

Takao had his back to Midorima, but he didn't need to see Shin-chan's face to know something was terribly, terribly wrong. Shin-chan was tactile like this in bed and _only_ in bed. There, he never hesitated to touch Kazunari with steady, talented hands. There, he had no trouble being assertive or amorous, or any number of things that unfailingly left Kazunari panting for his next breath.

Midorima wasn't even shy about getting things started. _Wow, that guy's a monster. Did you see that dunk, Shin-chan?_ Takao had asked one night when he had brought work home with him and they were watching the game footage together. _If it's a monster you want, Takao. There's one right in front of you,_ he had replied in that suggestive tone just dripping with smugness that was all birthdays and Christmases to Kazunari's ears. And was it really bragging when you had the skill _and_ the goods to back it up?

Takao had worked out a theory on that, something about needing to cause a physiological response in his partner gave Shin-chan a purpose and relieved him of the self-consciousness he otherwise felt when dabbling in the emotional realm; he needed a physical excuse to show how he felt. Not that Kazunari was complaining. If this was Shin-chan's preferred method of communicating his emotions, Takao was all too eager to cede the floor to the speaker from Cockistan.

In other words, Shintarō was not lovey-dovey, not on a random Tuesday while Takao was minding a clay pot. Shin-chan was outside his carnal comfort zone, and so what normally constituted a loving embrace from a husband to his spouse, had Takao decidedly on edge. Kazunari's knuckles were turning white with how tightly he was holding onto the slotted stirring spoon, tensely awaiting Shin-chan's next words.

Midorima sighed into Takao's neck causing the fine hairs there to stand straight up. And when Shin-chan spoke, his voice was so low and rumbly, that Takao could feel the vibrations rolling off his scuff. It had a gravelly quality to it, that would have had the former point guard weak at the knees had the gesture been made in a different context. Instead, the hawkeye felt like he had gotten the wind knocked out of him. It was a sensation that was very similar to a well-placed elbow to the gut during a close game, except he wasn't going to get to the free throw line for his troubles.

"My father had a heart attack," he had finally said, in a tone Kazunari didn't recognize. Maybe it was sympathy pain, but Takao swore he could feel his own heart constricting.

He had the presence of mind, just barely, to turn off the gas stove and remove the half-cooked pot of nabemono from the hot burner, before turning his whole body and his attention to Shin-chan.

The spoon that had been held so tightly in Kazunari's possession was already forgotten as it strived to make one last, futile attempt at being noticed with the loud metal clang it made upon hitting the kitchen floor, splattering remnants of fish stock in its wake.

"Is he alright?"

Takao knew this was a stupid question before it even flew out of his mouth. Of course he was not alright, he'd had a heart attack. The man was in the hospital. At least Takao _hoped_ he was in the hospital. He didn't have the courage to ask the terrifying question that had marshaled inside his head next. _Did he survive?_

The younger Midorima had the grace to allay Takao's unspoken worries.

"He's stable, but in critical care."

He started prattling medical drivel and it lasted mere seconds, before Takao cut him off.

"Shintarō. What are you doing here? You could've called me, I would've met you there."

And then Shin-chan said the words Takao had never expected to hear from him.

"I . . . I _panicked_."  

Midorima Shintarō was used to operating under an exorbitant amount of pressure. It had always been that way. For every buzzer beater shot Takao had seen him take on the basketball court in high school, Midorima Shintarō played like he had ice water running through his veins. He never once choked. When he was in that zone, nothing got to him. He was unflappable. Blessed with other-worldly skill and unlimited range, even back then he was carving up opponents on the hardwood floor with the precision of a surgeon. He had done it to Takao once in middle school.

The hawkeye wondered at times if he still would've zeroed in on Shin-chan at Shūtoku, if their initial meeting hadn't been so painful for the former point guard -- if his team had never played the Kiseki no Sedai, or if it had been Aomine instead of Shintarō who had been the overwhelming scorer of that lopsided matchup.

Kazunari knew that Shin-chan was only human. Of course, he knew that. He had learned that difficult lesson early on in their relationship, but there were so many extraordinary things about Shin-chan that it was all too easy to forget sometimes. 

"I was . . . I was so scared. I didn't know what to do. So I came here when I finished my rounds."

Takao reached for Shin-chan's dominant hand -- the one he no longer bandaged up, the one that now wore his wedding ring -- it was shaky and so cold to the touch that Kazunari wondered if Shintarō had even remembered to put on his driving gloves before heading home.

With his own free hand, Takao pulled the knot of his bib apron loose, letting it fall to the floor. He led a docile Shin-chan into the foyer where Kazunari put on his winter coat (thankfully Shintarō was still wearing his), before grabbing his wallet and his own car keys. Takao didn't even want to think about how his spouse had driven himself home in the first place. The young neurosurgeon was in no condition to operate a vehicle tonight and he was too shell-shocked to likely complain about Kazunari's inferior ride; Shintarō's flagship sedan suffered from an overabundance of bells and whistles and Takao hated driving it.

He helped Shintarō into his shoes, a pair of black slip-on Italian loafers, and it was a testament to the state Midorima was in that he was having trouble getting them on. Finally, Takao grabbed one of Shin-chan's heavy, merino wool scarves off the coat rack, an instantly recognizable, check-patterned cashmere blend. It was one of the few articles of clothing they could share, even socks proved difficult because Shintarō's big feet would invariably stretch them out.

While Takao loved carrying the distinctive scent of Midorima with him, borrowing the prissy doctor's designer scarves was not without its disadvantages. For starters, he had to be extra careful not to spill soy sauce on the expensive fabric or he'd never hear the end of it, and of course there was the almost guaranteed ribbing he would get at the office from his down-to-earth, manly-men coworkers. Takao could hardly blame them for teasing. After all, he was once one of those Neanderthals, before a certain verdant-haired fop entered his heart and words like "merino wool" entered his vocabulary.

Shintarō didn't express a single thought the entire drive back to the hospital while Takao was trying to keep it together by carrying on a one-sided conversation made up entirely of idle nonsense that before Shintarō had come home had seemed like very exciting work news. Takao ran his mouth right up until he pulled his car into Shin-chan's reserved parking spot.

Midorima was so out of it that Takao even had to help him exit the car. But that was okay. That was what Kazunari was there for. Because he would always be there when Shintarō needed him.

###

The automatic doors of the hospital sprang open and Takao instantly felt colder despite coming in from the outside, from the dead of winter. They made their way through now familiar, white corridors. Although the hallways all looked the same, Takao had been here often enough -- fussing over Shin-chan getting enough to eat or just dropping by unannounced on days when his own schedule unexpectedly cleared up -- to know his way around. Which was coming in handy since it felt like he was pulling his ace along.

Shin-chan was on autopilot looking very much like a bespectacled zombie. Every once in a while he did that thing where he adjusted his glasses, even though they didn't need it, even though his eyes weren't focused on anything in particular. It made Takao wish he had his own nervous tick, his frayed synapses sure could use some soothing right now.

Dr. Midroima was on the top floor in a large, private suite, reserved for when muckety-mucks got sick, which was a good sign. This meant he'd been downgraded from the cardiac care unit and his condition was serious, but not so perilous.  

The first person Kazunari saw upon crossing the room's threshold -- and maybe it was because his sharp eyes were purposely avoiding the intubated elephant in the room -- was Sazuna. He was struck by how small and frail his mother-in-law felt when he embraced her and Takao was instantly hit with an unexpected wave of guilt.

For years he had silently judged her. For being weak, for not having the strength to leave him, for putting up with a man who had put her through hell and back with his arrogant, callous ways. There she was, the former beauty queen, devoted to her husband at the expense of her children, loyal as a dog even as he trampled over her like one. Even her brief stint as a runaway bride -- the one that had damaged Shintarō so profoundly -- had been for _him_. It had been a costly stunt, a desperate attempt to get his attention. And when he called her bluff, she returned home defeated.

The lights were turned off and the room was silent, save for the rhythmic beeping of monitors. There, resting unconscious in his hospital bed, connected to electrodes and surrounded by wires, he appeared harmless. As meek as a lamb. In this state, he was hardly the tall, overbearing figure that Takao found so intimidating as a teenager and so loathsome as an adult. 

At times, when Kazunari caught sight of Sazuna, he thanked the heavens that Shin-chan was not like his father; that Takao's loyalty and devotion would never be tested the way hers had. Yet looking at her by the man's bedside, clutching his inactive, IV adorned hand -- her sunken eyes, her grief stricken face, etched with worry over the fate of her husband -- he knew it was love. Love, a force as essential to life as it was destructive.

It was love that had wrecked her, love that had put her through the strainer until there was nothing left of her to give to anyone else. It was love that nearly drove her mad with grief, that kept her tethered to this cruel man and this even crueler fate against her own self-interest, against her better judgment. It was love that made her pursue a second child (a second chance?) over a decade after her first, that had kept her from cutting her losses and made her double her bonds to this inattentive man in an effort to hold his fleeting interest just a little while longer.

It was an all powerful, all consuming love, not unlike what he felt for her son and he wondered for the first time whether he would have the kind of strength needed to leave him, if Shin-chan were a lesser man.

"How is Shuzuko doing?" He asked in hopes of having something to talk about, in hopes of distracting himself from his heavy thoughts.

"She's holding up, under the circumstances. The earliest flight back is tomorrow morning."

Takao spoke with his much younger sister-in-law often enough to know that she was abroad with some of her university friends. They had rented a chalet in the alps for a ski trip over winter break. He also knew that she had omitted to tell her mother that her boyfriend was joining her.

Although he had long ago buried the hatched with Shin-chan's parents, it was an admittedly shallow grave and occasionally there was still some residual resentment that cropped up. Still, he took some small solace in knowing that apparently disapproving of your child's boyfriend was a time-honored Midorima family tradition that wasn't limited to same sex-partners. In this respect, Shin-chan and Shuzuko's parents were undiscriminating. And for that reason alone, he kinda liked the hapless suitor. It was nice having a kindred spirit, a fellow non-Midorima to pal around with during those incommodious, excessively formal family dinners.

Takao deposited an obedient Shintarō in the chair next to his mother's and offered to go get some drinks. He was stalling, of course. He knew that. But he couldn't quite face the man asleep just centimeters away in a hospital gown with plastic tubes sticking out of him like a pin cushion. It didn't help that Dr. Midorima looked so much like a older version of his Shin-chan. Seeing him in this fragile state of health was too unnerving for Kazunari. The resemblance was too much for Takao; it was stifling him and he had to get out of his presence.

Although there were vending machines on almost every floor, he took the long route to the hospital cafeteria. Along the way, he fished his mobile from his back pocket to call his own parents. He had left all the vestments of winter in the room with Shin-chan, but he had kept Shintarō's scarf securely wrapped around his neck. The familiar fragrance embedded in its fibers was comforting to Kazunari evoking a sense of security and refuge. Despite being a married man in his late twenties, despite having established his own household, the situation was making him feel like an anxious teenager again, like he needed his own parents.

He felt an absurd sense of relief when his own father answered the phone sounding as healthy as a horse, as healthy as he had during Kazunari's lunch break, when they last spoke. At this hour, his parents were finishing their supper. But that was okay, Kazunari knew he could call his parents at any time of the night for any reason and they would be there to support him. He and his sister were never been made to feel like they were an inconvenience, like they were was a disturbance. 

Takao's parents had _always_ been there to help him, no matter what -- like when he'd wet his sleeping bag, mid-slumber party and decided he no longer wanted to spend the night at Hiro-chan's house, forty-five minutes away, or when he'd told them he had a crush on his team's shooting guard and wanted to ask him out.  

His family was the kind that didn't adhere to arsy-varsy things like protocol or rules of etiquette. They ate their dinner every night in the den in front of the television because it was more agreeable there, because it was more fun. They were a loud, boisterous bunch and Takao sometimes missed that. He and, later, Kazumi moving out had taken a lot out of that daily routine. They were the kind of family that talked over each other, but always listened and shouted at the telly as they watched gameshows together. His parents believed in making people feel welcomed in their home, especially their own children and the people their children cared about. Because accepting people was _their_ time-honored family tradition. 

When he arrived at his destination, he couldn't help but feel nostalgic upon seeing the same, ugly yellow paint on the walls. He had logged plenty of hours here in the hospital cafeteria, biding his time writing sports stories for work, while waiting for his then-boyfriend to finish his late-night shift, back when Midorima was still a resident and they would sneak off into an unattended broom closet when the janitor wasn't looking. Reminiscing on old times made him miss his green-haired tsundere. As eager as he was to leave that hospital room, he now felt a more compelling need to be by Shin-chan's side. He didn't linger. He grabbed some coffee, tea, and a can of shiruko and made his way back, this time taking a shortcut.

###

It was the early morning hours before they made it back to their apartment. While Shintarō showered, Kazunari disposed of the inedible, halted attempt at nabemono, cleaned the dried fish stock off the kitchen floor, and sent a short email to his editor letting him know he would not be coming in to work later today.

When he walked into their still dark bedroom, Midorima pulled him to bed. Takao was not expecting this given everything that had happened today, given Shin-chan's catatonic state earlier, but he went along with it, discarding his own clothing to help things along. Anything to make Shin-chan feel better. When they made love, Shintarō was uncharacteristically needy, desperate. Like he was trying to loose himself inside his partner and forget about everything else. Kazunari only wished he could provide him with that kind of shelter.

Afterwards when they were both spent and trying to catch their breaths, Midorima buried his face in the crook of Kazunari's neck again much like he had done earlier, except this time they were facing each other, except this time Takao could feel the hot tears against his own skin and the soft shudders beneath his fingertips as he tightened his grip across his husband's broad back allowing the sobs to course through the larger man's body. Up until this moment Shin-chan had remained stoic, impassive throughout this hellish ordeal.

Takao had always thought Midorima was beautiful when he cried. This morning was no exception.

###

It was shortly after his father had been released from the hospital that Shintarō began visiting his parents more often. They still lived in the same monstrosity of a house he had grown up in. How that not so humble abode ever got zoned within city limits was beyond Takao. It had been ridiculously oversized back then, when they had been a family of four (and one of the four was more like a transient guest) and doubly so now that Shintarō had married and Shuzuko was in her first year at Shin-chan's alma mater and had taken up a flat with a girlfriend. 

In the old days, Takao had been perfectly happy to let Shin-chan flounder about on solo visits to his parents. After all they were _his_ parents. But now that they were married, Takao couldn't get away with that so easily. For better or worse (mostly worse), they were his dysfunctional family now too.

For the most part, Shin-chan played shogi with his still recuperating father in the man's study while Takao and his snooty mother-in-law remained in the living struggling to make small talk around the one person they had in common, Shuzuko. Shin-chan was too controversial a topic. Takao's nostrils would flare up whenever Shin-chan's mother criticized her son. Because, although he would be the first to admit that Shin-chan was far from perfect, -- Takao was well aware of Shin-chan's multitude of flaws -- he didn't want to hear it from her, not when she was at the source of so many of his imperfections.    

Spending time with his father had always been awkward for Shintarō and being an adult hadn't made it any more facile. In fact, in some ways (the fact that he was an openly gay, married man) it was more difficult. 

Still there was one thing that made it easier, he now had a captive audience. The senior Dr. Midorima was on a home confinement of sorts and he would continue to be for months. He was still recovering from open heart surgery and when he became well enough, he would be undergoing a lot of physical therapy in the comfort of his vast home.

In time, he was expected to make a medical recovery, though not a full one. Provided he stuck to a light travel schedule and avoided exertion he would still be able to lecture at conferences. If anything, he was even more in demand for speaking engagements; he was not only the creator but now also the bearer of his own invention. But his days of hands-on demonstrations of the proper stent placement procedure were over. He would never again see the inside of an operating room.

Spending time with his father was something Shintarō had never learned to do, like cooking. He was abysmal in the kitchen because he'd never had any practice. This was sort of similar. He wasn't good at being with his father because they'd spent so little time together as a family.

He never vocalized this theory to anyone, not even to Takao because it made him feel woefully inadequate. Getting along with one's parent shouldn't be a learned trait. The fact that this critical life skill had eluded someone so otherwise capable as himself was a source of private shame he didn't want to highlight to anyone, least of all Kazunari. Of course, he had little choice in the matter, Takao had long ago become privy to his family's soiled, high-thread count linens. But there was no sense in reminding the hawkeye of his spouse's familial shortcomings.

Still, he was here in his parents' house; he was making an effort. Because he'd only recently come to realize that his father wasn't going to be around forever.

Shintarō had an extremely difficult job. Many of his patients were very sick, some of them were in the advanced stages of dying, and he had inevitably lost a few along the way. He worked in a profession that was surrounded by life and death. He was reminded daily of the fragility of life, of the fleetingness of existence, and yet he had only just come to terms with his own father's mortality. He had always seemed larger than life to Shintarō, a giant not only in stature, but in his field. And despite his faults, Shintarō still loved him.

Whatever small chance he had to try to understand his father, to try to make his father understand him, it was now.

His father had a long convalenscence at home ahead of him. His mother, however, seemed unexpectedly at peace.

### 

Dr. Midorima's heart attack had shaken Shintarō to the core, but he was not the only one in his household who had been acutely affected, he wasn't the only one who had been contemplating the circle of life. That cataclysmic event had also incited an unexpected longing in Kazunari.

It was the worst fight they'd ever had.

Sure, he and Takao fought _all_ the time. They always had. Over stupid things, like whose turn it was to take out the trash (Takao's), who forgot to pay the light bill when the power got shut off on the eve of Shintarō's big presentation to the hospital board of trustees, causing him to run hat in hand to Kuroko and Kagami's to use their printer (Takao), or who left the carton of milk out on the counter all day letting it spoil, then absentmindedly placed it back into the fridge giving Midorima an unpleasant surprise the next morning when he'd poured clumpy white goo all over the last of the cornflakes (Takao).

But they had never fought about the important things and it scared the hell out of Midorima. So much so that he had cast aside his usual, tsundere exterior and was actually pleading with Kazunari, at least momentarily before it devolved into a shouting match.

"Kazu, be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable. You're the unreasonable one."

"You know I'm not good with them. You've seen the way I get when I'm around Tetsuya #3. I --" 

Takao didn't let him finish. "This isn't like when I wanted us to get a pet, Shintarō."

In Midorima's professional opinion, Takao needed a pet, like he needed more sugar in his diet. And Shintarō wanted to get a pet like he wanted to get dysentery. But now, getting a four-legged companion suddenly didn't seem like such a bad idea in comparison. Perhaps he had been too hasty. If these were his options, he could maybe conceivably learn to tolerate a Chartreux, possibly.

Even so, he had enough of a self-preservation instinct not to bring up this whiskered olive branch at a time like this. Not when Takao was this incensed. 

"You know we can't have a child. That was the deal. That's what you got when you married someone like me instead of --"

"Instead of who? _A woman?_ "

Takao's dual sexuality didn't come without some anxieties for Shintarō. And one of those lingering fears was that Takao would wake up one day and realize he had been missing out. That unlike, Shintarō, he could have an easier life.

"Instead of someone," _who can give you children, who doesn't have this kind of baggage, who has a normal father-son relationship_ , "else," he finished lamely.

Takao was not the kind of person who would ever force parenthood on an unwilling partner. But he didn't want Shintarō to make this decision out of an unfounded, irrational fear that he would make a terrible father. He didn't want them to pass on this experienced due to a kneejerk reaction that had no basis in reality.

"I don't want to have a child with someone else. I want to have a child with you, Shin-chan." Something in Takao's temperament had changed and he was back to using that affectionate moniker. They had been at each other's throats moments ago, but now Kazunari's tone was gentle, almost tender.

"I know you had some bad experiences, but all that proves is that you had shitty parents."

Most people would be more respectful when referring to their in-laws, but Takao had never been afraid to call a spade a spade. It was more important to him that Shintarō know this wasn't normal, that his parents were awful and that it had nothing to do with him.

"That's not us. You're not your father, Shintarō. And we're not like them."

Takao's words shocked him. It was like Kazunari was peering into his soul, like he was using those high-powered, magnifying loupes that Shintarō wore for surgery -- the ones that allowed him to see every wrinkle, every deep groove and fissure clearly.

###

Takao was bouncing a happy, gurgling infant on his lap, making silly faces at him like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he was meant to do this.

They were _so_ ready for fatherhood. After months of careful research, they had found a reputable, open-minded local orphanage that would accept applicants in their situation.

They spent many more months waiting until at long last they got the happy news. And then it was a mad dash to get the nursery ready, hiring the same woman who'd decorated their home a few years before when they got married.

In the interim, Shin-chan had poured over every child development book he could get a hold of and their friends had even thrown them a baby shower.

They had babyproofed their home, filled it with toys and bottles and binkies, bought a stroller and a jogging stroller, installed a child seat and a sunshade in their respective cars. Everything was ready, everything was in place, but Takao wouldn't feel at ease until they finally brought their son home.

Midorima was quietly reading the adoption file, because reading records was second nature to him. He wore a crisp, light blue pinpoint oxford buttoned at the cuffs and a pair of professionally pressed dark slacks, long legs crossed at the ankles. It was what passed for casual attire as far Shin-chan was concerned, but he still looked very stiff. "It says here he has a sister."

Takao stilled at his spouse's comment. The baby in his hands started squirming.

"Yes. That's correct," the orphanage director responded.

Shintarō knew that people's parental rights didn't get terminated in piecemeal. One look at Kazunari and he also knew his next question, "Is she still here?"

The thing about children is that they're really adaptable. The thing about newly minted parents is that they are too. 


	11. Chapter 11

Takao was in the kitchen with both children decorating cookies as a surprise for when Daddy came home from work. He had baked the sugary treats earlier that morning and -- after a lot of "Papa, are they ready yets" -- they had finally cooled.

They were using colored frosting, sprinkles (Keiko-chan _loved_ sprinkles, especially the pink sparkly kind), and those neat, food-safe markers that weren't around when Takao was a kid, but were a lot of fun. In truth, the markers had decorated more of the children and of Takao than they had the gingersnaps. In fairness, Takao had started it, by drawing pink little hearts all over chubby cheeks to giggling protests of "Papa, that tickles."

"Keiko-chan, you and your brother look like you got into a fight with a box of crayons. What happened?" he teased, as if he had nothing to do with it. 

"It was you!" She chortled, bestowing him with a smile that was all baby teeth.

"Is that right? Well then, in that case, when your father gets home he's going to kill me."  

Clearly unconcerned with patricide, Keiko-chan giggled with unbridled glee; her papa was the funniest.   

Kazunari didn't really think Shintarō would kill him over covering their children in non-toxic, edible ink that cleaned up easily enough with a wet wipe. It was just a line he'd heard a housewife deliver once on a TV show and, well, he now had the audience to say it to.  
  
Takao wasn't a househusband exactly. He had merely traded in his downtown cubicle for a home office covered in wedding day portraits, everyday photographs of his spouse and children, and one of a kind, framed artwork in the seldom used medium of elbow macaroni and fingerpaints.

Kazunari now did most of his writing and conducted all of his interviews and staff meetings over Skype during naptime. And on the rare occasions he had to leave the house during the day to meet with his editor, Aunt Shuzuko and Aunt Kazumi were always happy to babysit the little tykes.   
  
Initially, it had just been Shuzuko and Takao's parents on Shin-chan's excessively short list of approved babysitters. Kazumi had managed to weasel herself onto the list after considerable lobbying -- i.e. pestering Midorima to death (tenacity was a Takao family trait) -- and passing Shin-chan's stringent pediatric CPR class, a prerequisite for all applicants. Then, he relented to letting the Sixth Man into the cabal, but only because he had an advanced degree in childhood education and only after he compared the children's astrological signs with the phantom passer's. It was inevitable anyway since the children would be matriculating in Tetsuya's kindergarten class when they got older.

In one of life's funny little twists, Shin-chan now thought that the blood type compatibility he had put so much stock into and had used for years as an excuse for why he just couldn't get along with the creator of the Vanishing Drive was absolute poppycock, now that it turned out their daughter was the same blood type as Kuroko and therefore purportedly incompatible with Shintarō. Because if anyone was a bona fide, card carrying daddy's girl, it was Midorima Keiko; Keiko-chan and her daddy were as thick as thieves.

All was good and well in the bright kitchen of the large, penthouse apartment until Keiko-chan reached for the purple marker which her brother was presently storing in his mouth, knocking over a plastic shaker in the process and sending a shower of rose-colored sprinkles all over the low kid's table and onto the floor.  
  
Kichi-chan, who was obviously not pleased at being so abruptly divested of his recently acquired chew toy, erupted into a five-alarm fit of waterworks and lung power. When an unrepentant Keiko saw that she'd wasted her favorite confectionary, she proceeded to cry over spilt sprinkles joining her brother in his unhappy tirade.  
  
Of course, that was the exact moment the phone decided to ring. Shin-chan never called when the children were alseep or in those rare moments when they were quiet. It was always when Takao sounded like he was in the midst of a three-ring circus, that Shintarō got the itch to phone home. He must've thought that all Takao and the children did while he was away at work was cause a ruckus.  
   
Takao, balancing a wailing infant on one hip and cradling the phone's receiver between his shoulder and ear, grabbed the first notepad and writing implement he came across in their kitchen junk drawer so that he could jot down the exact coordinates of the new, foreign butcher shop from which Shin-chan simply had to try the duck foie gras, a delicacy he developed a taste for on their honeymoon. Takao would be running this errand later that afternoon when he and the children went to the market to shop for ingredients for tonight's dinner, no doubt stopping at the swing set in park along the way.   
   
He put the note down on the table so he wouldn't forget it before handing the receiver off to Keiko-chan, who'd been tugging on his pant leg, in between sniffles, the whole time -- she positively had to speak to her father about some urgent matter -- and went in search of a favorite sippy cup.

Takao chuckled when he overheard his daughter tell her father that they were making cookies for him as a "sp'prise." His daughter was a riot. While Keiko undeniably adored secrets and surprises, she hadn't quite gotten the concepts down. She also wanted to remind her father of their conversation last night. In between snuggles and reading a bedtime story, Shintarō had promised to play tea time with her when he got home from work today. All those expensive, formal tea ceremony lessons Grandma Midorima had shelled out good money for when Shin-chan was a boy were _finally_ being put to good use. Their multi-million yen, floor-to-ceiling unobstructed views of Tokyo Bay now had tiny hand prints on them and Takao couldn't be more pleased.

Having found the coveted chalice in the dishwasher, affronted infant still in tow, he pulled a carton of juice from the fridge. Juice, Takao had learned, was a panacea. After soothing the pint-sized beast with some watered-down peach nectar and a few forehead kisses, Takao returned his attention to completing the decorative task at hand.

"Oh _Shit_." He slapped a hand over his mouth in response to his own expletive.

He and Shin-chan had quickly learned that they had to watch what they said lest it be replayed in the most inopportune of times. _Grandma, what does stuck-up mean? Papa said you were stuck-up. And then Daddy said, 'you have no idea.' What do you think that means?_

"Sit, sit, sit," the little parrot in his father's arms repeated back to him with a gummy smile, having forgotten all about his recent woes and looking far too pleased with himself. Thankfully, he still had trouble with the " _sh_ " sound.

 _Fuck, Fuck, Fuck_. Shintarō was definitely going to kill him.

Their precious, angel-faced little princess had covered herself with the same black permanent marker Takao had used to take down the phone message and to make matters infinitely worse she'd drawn a little smudge above her upper lip that bore an uncanny, unfortunate resemblance to a certain war-era dictator. _Fuuuuuuck_.

Having been to many overnight training camps, Takao was no stranger to the ol' permanent marker to the face prank. But he'd always been the culprit, not the recipient of said sophomoric tomfoolery. That misfortune usually befell the first dolt who fell asleep. As a result, he had no idea how to get rid of this felt-tipped fiasco. Shin-chan, on the other hand, did have some experience removing phallic-shaped hieroglyphics from his visage ( _what?_ that nightcap he insisted on wearing in the team's communal lodgings like some yuletide Dickensian character was practically an invitation, okay?). But Takao couldn't very well call _him_ and ask, at least not without raising some desperately unwanted suspicion.  

He tried wet wipes and baby wash, but both were too gentle to even fade the drawn on mustache. He then tried their own, adult body wash, followed by dish soap. Finally, because he was hopeless, he tried just a dollop, a smidgen really, of hand sanitizer, much to the vociferous protests of a certain young lady who didn't appreciate the strong scent of alcohol rubbed so close to her nose.

In a brief moment of insanity he even eyed the glass cleaner that was sitting on the countertop like some sort of blue, liquidy do-over button, but thankfully regained his senses before he did anything rash and actually used it.  

Nothing was working and all he had to show for his efforts was a teary-eyed child with an increasingly red philtrum ( _what?_ he had married a _doctor_ , he was bound to pick up some words). So Takao called the one person he knew was guaranteed to be home at this hour, an enormously pregnant Momoi. She was a girl. She wore make-up. She had to have _some_ product that cleaned her face. This was the same thing, right? 

###

Takao's mobile rang on the way to Momoi's, as he was attempting to maneuver through the city's notorious midday rush to get to the other side of town in a ridiculously overpriced, late model import. An obsidian black metallic S-Class with no less than 12 airbags that Shin-chan had insisted on getting him because there was no way Kazunari was going to cart _his_ children around in that "four-wheeled, hunched-back disgrace." Never mind that for three awfully long years, Takao had carted Shin-chan himself around in a rickshaw, which was _way_ more embarrassing than Takao's old car, a beloved though admittedly unreliable, domestic hatchback. 

He answered the call hesitantly. It was the father of his children and the absolute last person he wanted to speak to at the moment. He would've gladly taken a call from his father-in-law over Shintarō's right now. He didn't dare use the luxury sedan's handsfree calling feature, lest his little tattletale nark on him by recounting the fun and exciting morning they'd had or mention that they were on their way to see Aunt Momoi. Keiko-chan loved visiting Aunt Momoi because she let her play with her pretty pink hair and Keiko-chan loved all things pink.

"Ah, just picking up a few things," Takao responded in what he hoped was a casual tone. This wasn't technically a lie, he was going to go to the market after making this quick (hopefully fruitful) pit stop at Chez Aomine. Thankfully, it was early enough in the day that Daiki was still at the precinct, or he'd never hear the end of the power forward's booming laugh.

"An extra place setting? Sure, Shin-chan. That's no trouble. No trouble at all."

What was he supposed to say? _Sorry, Shin-chan. Dr. Yamaguchi, your boss and Chief of Medicine, can't invite himself over to dinner again tonight because in a moment of laxed supervision I let our daughter paint herself into bearing a striking resemblance to a 21-century monster_.

He had to get to Momoi's and pronto.  

###

Takao didn't miss the judgmental look on the doorman's face as Miss Keiko decided now was an excellent time to take off the kitty-shaped festival mask that Papa had found on the floor mat while buckling her into her child seat and talked her into wearing on the car ride there. Being far too young to have taken a history class and therefore oblivious to the man's disapproval of her inky mustache, she gave him a big smile, because she was a proper young lady and an especially friendly little girl.

Aunt Momoi had a good laugh at the miniature führer on her doorstep, before welcoming the trio inside. Takao felt really horrible about making an eight-months-and-three-quarters pregnant woman on bedrest answer her own front door looking even larger than the last time he had seen her just last week, but truthfully, he had no choice. 

His instinct had been right, the mother-to-be had a whole vanity full of beauty products and Keiko loved every minute of sitting on said vanity having all sorts of fancy lotions applied to her porcelain skin like a big girl. Unfortunately, while most of them claimed to stop the seven signs of aging, none of them made any promises about removing indelible ink.

After a bit of internet research -- Takao had been so panic stricken earlier, that he'd forgotten to consult the world wide web -- they found an article that said they needed a water-based, water soluble substance. Takao and Momoi looked at each other. There was only one product in the Aomine household that fit that description.

Takao watched as Momoi waddled away, hand supporting her lower back -- headed, no doubt, to the top drawer of her husband's nightstand -- and returned some moments later with a familiar looking plastic bottle. To no one's surprise it was almost empty. Given Momoi's advanced condition, a certain raunchy magazine reading police officer had to take matters into his own hands.

If Kazunari hadn't already felt like the worst father in the world for letting his little girl sport controversial face paint, he definitely felt it now that they were going to apply lubricant to her china-doll face.

But the thing was he was willing to try almost anything at this point, and the even better thing was that it worked.

After swearing Momoi to secrecy and thanking her profusely, he packed the kids back in the car and set off for that Francophile butcher shop while his little pipit serenaded him with a ditty she'd just composed entitled "Keiko-chan and Papa," which had the advantage of being both the title and the entirety of the lyrics.

In nine months of fatherhood Takao had learned a lot of things, like how to braid raven tresses with the help of online blogs, that a game of peekaboo held his son's attention way longer than any of those baby genius educational videos Shin-chan touted could ever hope to, that balloons unfailingly ended in tears, that there was no limit to the amount of products licensed by the Hello Kitty empire, that a car ride around the block in the wee hours was an excellent soporific, and that the cushions from those sophisticated, uber modern couches their decorator had insisted they simply must have made great forts. But the most important lesson he'd learned was that for all the curveballs that were thrown his way, his children were absolutely worth it.

###

Midorima hated traveling for work. He'd done it only a handful of times during their marriage and now that they were parents, he had flat out refused. It was no mystery to Kazunari why parenthood and business travel were so incompatible in Shin-chan's head. Dr. Yamaguchi, however, was at a loss.

Last week's dinner guest had come with ulterior motives and an offer Shin-chan couldn't refuse. The Chief of Medicine was spearheading a summit in Osaka on the effects of aging on the brain and was eager to show off his burgeoning neurosurgeon. Midorima worked for a prestigious teaching hospital and like most institutions of that caliber it needed continued public support to foster funding and growth. Medical conferences were a boon for business.

Like Coach Nakatani before him, Dr. Yamaguchi had made allowances for Shin-chan's whims. And with good reason, the young doctor was an extraordinarily talented medic. It was an open secret at the hospital that Yamaguchi was grooming Shintarō as his successor. It was a transition that was still decades away, but taking over the reigns of a large, renowned medical facility took years of meticulous training. The Chief of Medicine was chomping at the bit to get started.

Midorima was in an exceptionally foul mood as he placed two dark grey, made-to-measure tailored suits into a tri-fold garment bag. The matching carry-on lay open on their large bed. Shintarō had already filled it with the essentials -- a leather travel kit holding the necessary toiletries, finely-spun dress shirts, handwoven silk ties, cotton undershirts, boxer briefs, black socks, and a pair of Italian horsebit loafers tucked inside a drawstring shoe bag.

Kazunari was at the foot of the bed with Kichiro, who'd fallen asleep in his onbuhimo. He was almost sad he wasn't going, if only because he would miss out on the pleasured vista of seeing his hottie husband in his haughty suits. Takao was going to have to make Shin-chan wear one of them for him when he got back so he could unwrap him like a present, then climb him like a tree. Because the only thing sexier than Dr. Midorima Shintarō in a business suit was Dr. Midorima Shintarō in a tuxedo which was why Takao had yet to miss a hospital fundraiser gala.

"Relax, Shin-chan. It's just a couple of days. The kids and I will be fine. We'll still be here when you get back. I promise."

While her parents were talking, Keiko-chan added a few indispensable items of her own to the big black box with wheels that silly Daddy had overlooked -- a chipped saucer from one of the play tea sets Grandma Midorima had given her (because Keiko-chan liked to share), the remote control (so Daddy could watch TV), Papa's car keys (because they had a picture of the four of them that Daddy could look at while he was away), a pink hair bow (because it was pretty), one of Kichi-chan's teething rings (because he should learn to share too), and finally (in case daddy got hungry later) the contents of a half-open, half-eaten bag of cheesy puffs that Papa had given her earlier because she was such a good girl. Keiko-chan _loved_ being helpful.

"This isn't going to become a thing, Kazu," he said as he zipped his bag closed.

"I know that, Shin-chan."

###

Having safely returned from his medical conference, having found that his family didn't resent him for it, and his son having graciously waited until he got back to take his very first steps that morning, had Shin-chan in exceedingly high spirits. That is, until supper time came around.

It was a rainy Sunday evening and Dr. Midorima was at the dining table in the midst of dreadfully serious negotiations with the lady of the house. Keiko absolutely detested peas and there was no way she was going to eat one more bite of that abhorrent vegetable. No matter how hard Daddy pleaded with her. So far, she hadn't budged when he'd offered her a new dolly, a trip to the puppet show, or -- in a moment of risky brinksmanship -- a goldfish. These had all been enticing proposals, but Keiko-chan wasn't born yesterday, she was holding out for something even better.

Takao, who was not really paying attention to the dinner table talks, had his hands full with Kichiro. Now that he had taken his first steps, Kichi-chan decidedly refused to be carried. He didn't want to go anywhere his two chubby little legs couldn't take him. The problem was that he was awfully wobbly, reminding Kazunari of an extremely drunk Mura-chin at last year's Shōgatsu party; Shintarō always did say the purple-haired pastry chef acted like an overgrown toddler. So Takao was sitting on the tatami waiting patiently with his arms outstretched to catch his tot when he finally worked up the courage to let go of the black lacquered bench of Shin-chan's baby grand piano, the site where Midorima had tried teaching Takao a few simple chords countless times, but the Hawkeye was hopeless, or maybe he just liked the one-on-one instruction.

"Giddy-up, horsey. Faster! Faster!" Came the happy squeals of a delighted little girl who was pitching her socked heels into her father's pummeled flanks as if she were wearing spurs.

Naturally, Takao's head shot up and seconds later he was cracking up so hard he was in stitches. If someone had told Takao Kazunari that he would one day witness tall, proud, pretentious Midorima Shintarō -- correction, _Dr._ Midorima Shintarō -- on all fours imitating the world's saddest pony, he wouldn't have believed it.

Upon seeing the rousing good time his sister was having, Kichi-chan reconsidered his stance on approved modes of transportation and insisted that he have a go too.

As it was, Kazunari could scarcely believe his own eyes, which was why he was reaching for his cell phone as he held Kichi-chan steady on Shin-chan's back with the other hand.

He _had_ to record this moment and send it to all their friends. There was a good chance Shin-chan was going to banish him from the bedroom tonight and make him sleep on the divan, -- though given that they had been apart for two long nights, Shintarō would assuredly want to make up for lost time first before booting Takao -- but he knew it was worth it.

When both children were safely on the tatami and Shin-chan was on his back next to them, thoroughly exhausted, Takao -- loving every minute of this, and not one to miss a golden, once-in a lifetime opportunity -- ran to the fridge to grab a bag of carrots so that the youngsters could feed the poor, beleaguered "horsey."

Much later, after the small fry had been put to bed, Takao was on the couch using Shin-chan's firm thigh as a pillow, phone in hand cackling like a madman as he replayed the videos he had taken earlier -- of his son's tottering first steps and of their children delighting in horseyback rides from their father.

" _Fool_ ," the irritable doctor huffed, "What are you laughing about now?" Despite his purported annoyance at the man before him, he kept his hands in Kazunari's hair; his long, slender fingers meandering through dark strands if for no other reason than because he could, because he was his and had been for a very long time.

Takao wiped the tears from his eyes. By that point he wasn't sure if they were brought on by too much laughing or by the happy song in his heart, "I just never thought we'd end up like this. That's all."

Shintarō bent at the waist and Kazunari shifted to meet him halfway until their lips met in a long, drawn-out kiss that was far from chaste. Takao felt Shin-chan's strong arms travel through familiar paths to find their rightful way around him, holding him in place as one kiss morphed into many and perhaps he wouldn't be sleeping on the couch tonight after all.

The End.

* * *

 **AN** \- Midorima and Takao's children's names mean "lucky," of course.

In case you were wondering, Shin-chan did have to make an unexpected, last-minute, morning-of-the-conference shopping trip in Osaka to replace the wearable contents of his carry-on (someone's going to be a handful when she gets older). Thankfully, his very expensive and not so easily replaced, bespoke Italian suits were in a different bag. Kazunari got his house/car keys overnighted back to him, but Shin-chan waited to bring the remote control back with him because he thought his family watched too much television anyway. And for her troubles, little Miss Keiko-chan got a brand new, play tea set from Osaka to replace her chipped saucer -- because her daddy is a 195-cm pushover when it comes to his little girl.

Well, that's all folks. Thank you for reading and commenting and leaving kudos. You guys are awesome.

~~I wrote a follow up one-shot for Shin-chan's birthday entitled, "Grow Old With Me." It's part two of this series and takes place a few weeks after this last chapter.~~

This was Part 1 of a series. There's three more stories that follow in chronological order. Please keep reading, guys.

I have a tumblr if anyone's interested, JMetMisc.tumblr.com.

:-)

JMet


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